With Proper Guidance
by Cardinal Grief
Summary: To say it was luck didn't do it justice. For a talentless magus like Emiya Shirou to find a book on magecraft was nothing short of a miracle. Then again, wasn't that what heroes do? Perform miracles?
1. A simple journal

Hello again! It's been a while, hasn't it? Still waiting for the next chapter of Archer of Black, aren't ya? Well, I'm not usually the type to disappoint (actually I am), but this is not a new chapter for AOB. There's a logical explanation for that which I will reveal right now.

It all started during the spring when I was looking for a job. I found one, in another country across the little pond we call The Baltic Sea. I was super excited about moving overseas, but misfortune struck. My computer broke during the trip and I had to go through a bunch of interviews and paperwork on my phone or a friend's laptop. I got the job and finally got my pay check, but most of it went to more important stuff such as rent, food, clothes, Bloodborne, and other vital stuff I wouldn't survive a week without. I was finally able to buy a second hand iPad and keyboard, but writing on it is like being impaled from the inside by a bunch of swords while fighting a genocidal priest who uses martial arts.

Oh, and did I mention I was finally able to finish FSN the Visual Novel?

It took me a long while, but I finally got the True Ending for Heaven's Feel. I finally understand how God Slaying Blade Works begins. I'm so happy I finally understand everything in the Fate-universe now!

Except I don't.

After reading every route and unlocking all endings but one; why is it that I still can't find the part where they find Shirou's Magic Circuits? I tried re-reading the entire game, but I can't find it. Can anyone please point out during which day they discover Shirou's circuits? It would be much appreciated.

Anyway, aside from that: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! This chapter was originally supposed to be up on Christmas, but I think we all know what happens to Deadlines on Christmas Eve. Yeah, having family over to help with the cooking and cleaning doesn't give you much room for writing and it wasn't as if my hangover was willing to let me write anything after it was over.

So a lot of delays, I'm sorry to those of you who were waiting for the next chapter of AOB, but I had to take a break from that story. Aside from the agony of having to write on an iPad, the stress I was accumulating from writing that story was getting to me and I had to change gears a bit. Instead of making a crossover with FSN as I find myself doing quite a lot lately, I thought I would write a pure FSN fanfic instead. Or at least that's what I tried to start with: By the time I had finished the first rough draft of the plot, it was no longer a FSN-story as much as Fate/ Stay Extra Grand Apocryphal Prototype: Fake Ataraxia.

Yeah, I wasn't doing that considering there were too many loose threads in just three routes in the original Novel. Trying to integrate the extended universe simply because it exists doesn't make for a good story unless you're a really good author. I'm not that good, unfortunately, as much as I deny that sad fact.

So I tried to limit myself to just a few of them. Using the FSN-verse as the base, I decided to incorporate elements from the other –verses. So I suppose this is a crossover with the extended universe…

Also, this is a warning to all readers who are fanatical about the Nasu-verse. Okay, maybe not fanatical, but those of you who are extremely annoyed when something clashes with Nasu-verse's rules. I'm sorry, but this is most likely going to contain some bending of said rules. I don't think I overdid it, but considering I have only played the first game and none of the others (aside from Fate Grand Order, but it was in Japanese so I don't think I understood most of it). I have read parts of Apocrypha and other works, but most of my information comes from FSN and the internetz. So please don't hate me if you see something that goes against canon.

After this I will go back to AOB and try to finish the next chapter.

Anyway, please enjoy!

* * *

 _ **With Proper Guidance**_

The bandages were on too tight, he noted after the gauze rubbed against the wound on his shoulder. Not for the first time that evening did he curse his stupidity for not making the effort to properly wrap the bandages. It wasn't entirely his fault considering Ayako had sprung this on him less than an hour ago, but even so, he usually had more than enough time to secure the white fabric around his shoulder after school. The doctor had told him he needed to change the bandages once a day to avoid infection, and he usually did so after school, but why had he not had the time to do that today of all days? Thinking back, there were a few reasons:

The neighbour's cat had climbed a tree and wouldn't come down so he had to climb up and help it down.

The old lady Raiga was always playing shogi with had gotten her purse stolen by a thief, and Shirou needed to chase him down before he got away. It was mostly for the thief's own good. If Raiga found out that someone had stolen from one of his old friends and gotten away with it, then he wouldn't have rested until the thief was six feet under. The Fujimura Group might be a mostly legal organization now, but it still had roots in the Yakuza.

He also had to help a lost child find her parents and help the mall set up their Christmas decorations. If one took these time-consuming actions into account, then it was no surprise he barely had time to change his bandages, never mind the fact that a person suffering from severe burns should not be doing any strenuous activities.

Still, now he was here. Not that Ayako had given him much of a choice; she would have found some way to make him regret it if he declined her invitation. After Taiga, Ayako Mitsuzuri was one of the scariest people he knew.

He adjusted his sling slightly to alleviate some of the pressure on the wound. Aside from not being able to practice with a bow, the second most irritating fact about having a wounded shoulder was not being able to exercise at all. Growing up with Kiritsugu and Taiga meant having a very active lifestyle. Hell, growing up with Taiga was practically a series of triathlons without rest in-between.

He still remembered the stiffness in his muscles after the summer she had forced him to participate in the summer camp contests just to help her win a year's supply of ice cream. Ice cream she had refused to share….

Now he was stuck at home, resting and studying whenever possible. For someone who had spent their entire childhood running around the place and practicing whatever sport Kiritsugu and Taiga were interested in at the moment, spending more than two days not training some kind of muscle was torture. He almost preferred helping Taiga practice for her tournament, the tournaments she would always get disqualified from. That, if anything, was an indication of how badly he needed a distraction.

He wasn't even able to cook properly.

"Ah, and here he is, the man of the hour! The one, the only, the extraordinary… Brownie of Homuhara!" a voice behind him spoke. He didn't need to look behind him to know who it was, the slightly sarcastic tone could only be used by a single person without sounding offensive.

Shinji Matou was an interesting character to say the least. Most people simply had a hard time understanding him, and his personality didn't do much to help things either. He didn't have much problem with girls, but he did have trouble making friends with people his own age. It was actually difficult for Shirou to pinpoint when they had become friends. It had been somewhere around the school festival, but the exact day was beyond him. They were simply friends one day and Shinji had been one of the people to join the Archery club with him. Or rather, he had been one of the people forced to join the Archery club with him. Taiga hadn't given him much of a choice in the matter.

'Needing to keep an eye on him for Kiritsugu's sake', she just needed someone to help her take care of the Archery club. If the club fared badly, it would reflect just as badly on the teacher responsible for it. Taiga had apparently been given quite the reprimand for letting the club lose the prestige it had gained over the years, despite Ayako's attempts to reclaim its former glory.

So he had joined the club and, despite himself, he had learnt to enjoy it.

Except now he had missed the year's largest competition due to his injury. He had done the best he could to help the club with fixing bowstrings and carrying equipment, but it left a bad taste in his mouth, not being able to actually compete whereas Shinji (who had not wanted to compete that day) had been forced to take his place. Shinji had been quite vocal about his dismay, but once the girls had started approaching him about how cool he had looked with the bow, he had wisely shut up.

"I never agreed to that nickname," he said, leaning back against the wall to allow the people carrying the table past him.

"That's why you're not popular with the ladies, Emiya. It's not about what we allow people to think of us, it's about what we allow people to think what they think of us. If you let people think of you as a school janitor, then that's what they'll call you," Shinji said as he sipped from his glass of punch.

Another thing Shinji had adopted after his success at the archery tournament was the pompous tone he was currently speaking in. Shinji had always been a little arrogant, but after the praise he had received from helping the club win the tournament had gone to his head, his pompousness had risen to new heights. His arm movements had even started to look like what a theatre actor would use.

The fact that it only seemed to make him more popular just confused Shirou more.

"Is that so?" he asked hesitantly.

"That is so," Shinji responded with a smile. If the smile was meant for Shirou or if the smile was caused by the group of underclassmen walking by, he had no idea, but he didn't ask. He didn't think Shinji would appreciate the question.

"So how come you're not helping Mitsuzuri with the decorations?" Shirou asked. Instead of answering immediately, Shinji shrugged and took another sip.

"Hard labour is meant for those with unskilled hands. My hands should only be used with a bow; why should I help them put up a Christmas tree if they're only going to set in on fire tomorrow?" he grumbled.

"Come on, it's almost Christmas and it's a party. Don't you want a tree for it?" Shirou elbowed him with his good arm. He was careful not to move his bad arm too much. Shinji's responses tended to be quite physical when teased too much.

"It's the fifteenth of December; Christmas is a good nine days away! Besides, this was supposed to be a celebration for winning the competition. Why are we having a Christmas party instead?" He slapped Shirou's elbow away as he continued to grumble into his cup. He got his answer as they both felt a hand slap their backs with enough force to knock the wind out of them. Shinji, who was unfortunate enough to drink his punch at that very moment, got his face and shirt splashed with the hopefully not alcoholic - Ayako had joked about taking a bottle out of her parents' wine cellar for the party - beverage.

"Don't be like that, Matou! Don't you want to have a Christmas celebration with the club before everyone goes on vacation?" Ayako Mitsuzuri laughed as Shinji coughed out the liquid in his windpipe.

"Mitsuzuri, what the hell? What's wrong with you?" the blue haired archery club member growled as his face dripped with liquid. The threatening factor was rather degraded, though, considering the drink covering his face and dripping down his chin was a dark shade of pink.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing at all, I'm just happy that everyone is in the holiday cheer and most certainly isn't skipping out in work. By work, I mean of course the task I gave you to help Fujimura-sensei set up the tree. Because I know that you are most certainly not avoiding helping her by standing back here with Emiya. I'm right, aren't I? I am right, aren't I?" Although her tone had started out cheerful and kind, the last sentence was void of any emotion. It didn't help either that her smile didn't change the slightest.

"O-of course you are! I was just making sure Emiya wasn't lonely by himself. I'll just go and change my shirt and get right back to it." Shinji, usually the ever rebellious one, knew a lost cause when he saw it, and wisely retreated in the face of Ayako's patented ´Talk back and you'll wish I had killed you instead´ smile. It was usually only reserved for those who told her she acted like a boy, but the stress from having planned this party in secret had apparently brought out the darker aspects of her personality.

As they both watched Shinji scurry away to the bathroom, Shirou felt Ayako's stare zoom in on his injury.

"Is something wrong?"

Was she angry at him for not being able to compete? If Shinji hadn't been able to participate, they might not have been able to win. For a first year like Ayako, this had been the most important archery event of the year. Albeit one only for high schools, the Misaki City Archery Competition was a rather prestigious one. Had they gotten a bad result, then the school might have reduced their budget. For someone as passionate as Ayako, hurting her club was worthy of divine punishment.

The glare she was giving him was not the one he had expected. Instead of the one filled with promises of pain she had given Shinji, the one she was currently sending his way was at best annoyed.

"You don't seem to mind not being the centre of attention. One would think that since it was originally you who was supposed to compete, you might be jealous of the praise Shinji is getting. Am I wrong?" she said as she took the sport which had moments earlier belonged to Shinji.

"You're totally wrong," he said. When she didn't answer he continued. "Just because I messed up doesn't mean I'm jealous of Shinji. Whether it was Shinji or I who participated in the competition, it doesn't change the fact that the reason we participated was to ensure the club continued to exist as it is. I didn't sign up for any other reason." He finished his explanation by once more moving out of the way as the same people moved past him, carrying yet another table.

How many tables did they need? There were only so many members in the club, and not all of them were even here. Taiga wasn't staying for the entire evening since she was going to the dinner event held by the Fujimura Group each year, and he knew at least three other members were at home, sick with the flu.

"I see. I suppose you're right. Ignore what I said; it was a dumb thought."

Ayako smiled, not the scary smile from when she had ´persuaded´ Shinji to get back to work, but a relaxed smile. A real smile.

She might act like a tomboy most of the time, but that didn't stop her from having her moments.

"I still don't know why you decided to set up a Christmas tree if you're just going to burn it tomorrow. I know I told Shinji it was for the holiday spirit, but that's not the real reason, is it?" he asked hesitantly.

That had been the reason she had a Christmas party, apparently. Her dad had started renovating their backyard and had cut down the old spruce tree in the yard. Since they didn't have need for firewood and nobody they knew had a stove reliant on fire, the only thing they could do with it was a campfire. They didn't need a Christmas tree, either, since they had bought a plastic Christmas tree before they moved to the house. Since letting it spend days inside the house only made it harder to clean up the needles it would eventually shed, the only time they could use it was today.

And so Ayako had rounded up the club and brought them to her house for a party. Why she just hadn't decided to use the plastic tree to begin with since it was easier to set up and take down was beyond him, especially since they would need to set it up later regardless. Ayako had not bothered to explain her reasoning beyond `she felt like it´.

You couldn't argue with her logic.

"What do you mean?" she smirked, knowing he would have to explain his reasoning before she did.

"We didn't need to have a Christmas party at your house. We didn't even need to have a Christmas party at all since exams are coming up and it would have been much better to simply wait until after them." Normally the exams would have been held at the end of November, but there had been a problem with the printer. Some characters had a smudged edge which could make the character look like another similar one under the right circumstances. Not a big issue, even when all the exams in every subject had the same error. It wouldn't have mattered under most circumstances, but one of their teachers had decided to go from class to class and cancel all tests while collecting every piece of paper meant for the students.

If that wasn't all, he had even told the other teachers that since the same problem had existed with the tests already taken - in other words, all of them - all tests had to be revised.

Since the students had already seen all the tests, as in it was the final day of exams, the teachers had been forced to write up an entire new test, for every subject, for every grade.

Needless to say, the new teacher was instantly loved by the students… and thoroughly despised by the teachers.

So the exams were a week away and having a party wasn't the best of ideas to have before the exams. So why had Ayako, someone who knew the importance of good grades, have a party before the exams? Shinji didn't care much about the tests; he was always more focused on having fun, so he wouldn't notice the issue with Ayako's reasoning. Shirou, on the other hand, had spent the last few days studying, so he knew there was something wrong with Ayako's explanation.

"You know, Emiya, you're a lot smarter than you look." Ayako grinned. He was about to thank her for the compliment when the meaning behind it registered in his brain.

"What's that supposed to mean? Is that a compliment or an insult?" He frowned, and her grin only seemed to grow.

"Definitely a compliment. Don't worry about it." She waved away his concerns as she laughed. He wasn't satisfied by her explanation, and was about to continue his questioning when he noticed her smile suddenly dimming.

"Is something wrong?" His question startled her, snapping her attention back from whatever had caused her to look so forlorn. It wasn't an expression which suited the energetic Ayako Mitsuzuri at all. He hadn't said anything depressing, had he? He had made her smile and laugh; that should have made her feel the exact opposite of depressed.

As she looked back at him, he could tell her smile was more forced than usual. The edges of her lips weren't smiling, they were just being lifted by the muscles in an attempt to look like they were.

"What are you talking about, Emiya? I'm in the springtime of youth! You couldn't find a happier person than me," she teased, or at least it looked she was teasing him. Entertaining factor lost its power when the person doing it wasn't putting her heart into it.

"First of all, anyone who actually says 'springtime of youth' is well past it." She scowled at his answer, a sign of genuine emotion. That was progress, at least. "Second, you just said I was smarter than I looked. That means I'm smart enough to figure out when a friend is faking it. What's got you down?"

For a moment, it looked like she would ignore him. Her frown got deeper, and he was afraid she would just brush his concerns off like they were nothing. People who needed help were often the ones who refused it the most. If Ayako decided to ignore his questions then there was little he could do.

Luckily, it seemed that would not be the case. Instead of giving him the cold shoulder, she sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"You really are smarter than you look, you know. If you don't become a janitor after university, you could become a decent therapist."

"I never said I wanted to become a janitor, but it's nice to know you think so highly of me." Ayako snorted at his comment before she started speaking again.

"You know that the third years are leaving the club, right? They're graduating and one of the second years will become captain." Her words were calm, but they had a certain fragility to them.

"Yeah, Dai-Senpai will probably take over as captain. He's the one the captain's been leaning towards." Aside from being the most skilled second year, Dai Hachiman was the most responsible member of the club. He was the obvious choice for captaincy.

"I thought so, too, but I was wrong."

Everything Shirou was about to say disappeared from his mind. Suddenly, he couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

"What happened?"

Ayako looked around and made certain no one was around to overhear anything. When she was sure everyone was either in the living room or the upper floor, she looked back at him.

"You didn't hear this from me, especially since I wasn't supposed to know in the first place. Hachiman-Senpai got caught growing something illegal at home. His parents got called in and it was a big problem. They didn't press any charges against him, since he's a minor and it was a small amount, but he's not allowed to participate in official tournaments and he's under a curfew now. His parents decided it would be best to move back to Okinawa since it's only a matter of time before it becomes public knowledge. I guess it's a good thing his parents are friends with the mayor and chief of police," Ayako whispered in a frightened voice, as if by revealing the secret she was breaking a law herself.

Shirou, on the other hand, was trying not to scream everything she had just said in shock. Hachiman, the ideal upperclassman, growing drugs at home? Granted, it didn't have to be drugs, but what else could it have been?

"All right, and you think this might hurt the club?" She shook her head in response. "So why are you worried…. Did you also grow something ill-OW!" Her punch came faster than he had expected, and it landed squarely on his wounded shoulder. It wasn't strong enough to damage the wound any further, but it had just enough power to sting rather painfully.

"Don't be an idiot! You think I would do something like that?" When he didn't respond, her eyes narrowed in barely repressed fury. "Emiya, I'm seriously starting to wonder what your opinion of me is. Tell me, what kind of person do you think I am?"

"A person who acts first and thinks later on the consequences. An intelligent gorilla. A vicious sociopath. A violent monster. A…" He shuffled back to avoid her second punch aimed at his shoulder, but allowed her kick aimed at his shin to connect. Ignoring the painful sensation in his leg, he looked back at Ayako, who seemed to have calmed down from his comic relief.

"So if you're not involved in anything dangerous, why are you so worried about this?" She shouldn't have to worry about it if it didn't affect her or the club.

"Apparently, Hojou and Hanzo were also growing marijuana at home."

OK, that might be cause for concern. Hachiman, Hojou, and Hanzo were three second years in the Archery Club. In fact, they were the only second years in the club.

"The police caught them as well?"

"Yeah, and they got the same punishment. No clubs, community service, and they have to do regular drug tests. It's good to have friends who have parents who are friends with the government, isn't it?" she grumbled as she drank from her glass of punch.

Was that what she was bitter about? That they didn't get a proper punishment? Ayako didn't seem the type to hold a grudge for that; it had to be something else.

Wait…

The third years were graduating, the second years were busted for drug possession… Did that mean only first years were currently in the club? In that case, who would be the captain?

"This might be a dumb question, but how do you know all of this?" Ayako did not have access to the police case files nor the case files in the city hall. How would a first year at Homurahara High School know about this?

"I was supposed to meet up with Fujimura-sensei after school to talk about my lost earring when I heard voices in the faculty room. I was going to enter when I heard something about drugs and the archery club. I kept quiet and listened in, and before I knew it, I had heard the whole thing. The parents explained everything to Fujimura-sensei, probably because she's the teacher in charge of the archery club."

That explained how Ayako knew about it. Taiga would have already known about it, considering her family's ties with the police and the city's officials. Then again, the crime was relatively minor and she never had an interest in the family business, so she might not have known about it.

It also cleared up why Ayako was anxious.

"So now one of us has to be the new captain?" he asked. Ayako nodded slowly, the reason for her morose state being clear. "It's you, isn't it?"

"It was the recommendation from Hachiman." It was obvious she was not happy about being recommended by someone who thought it was a good idea to grow illegal plants at home.

"If it makes you feel any better, I would have recommended you as well." It didn't succeed entirely in cheering her up, but it did bring a smile to her face, one that wasn't fake.

"You just don't want to deal with the responsibility," she joked, elbowing his ribs as she sat down next to him.

"That might be one reason. Having Shinji as an alternative might be another." They laughed at the thought.

They sat on the couch for a moment, quietly pondering over the information. In Shirou's case, he was still having trouble understanding why three relatively smart people would suddenly break the law. It just didn't sit right with him.

"When do you think it will be official?" They would need to announce the next captain before the year ended. Ayako would have to be informed of the situation before that.

"Fujimura-sensei wants to talk to me after the tree is set up. That's kind of why I assigned Shinji to help her. I might slow the whole thing down by another hour or so," she admitted sheepishly. Shirou snorted at her reasoning, and before they knew it, both of them were laughing at the thought.

"So what does this have to do with the party?" he asked once they'd calmed down. She was still giggling when she answered, but not noticeably so.

"If I become the captain, and that's a big if, the entire mood in the club will change. I'll be in the same grade as you guys, but it won't be the same as before. Being the captain is a big responsibility, and it's going to be hard to be friends when I have tell off the people who don't show up or don't practice." Unlike before, Ayako seemed to be more at ease with telling him what was wrong. It seemed to make her feel more relaxed to tell him what she was feeling.

"Before that happened, I thought I would have a party to celebrate what we had. One big get-together to make as many memories as possible before I become the unreasonable captain everyone doesn't want me to be."

So that was the reason. It seemed logical and even understandable.

It was also way too mature for a first year student to have to think about.

Ayako might have been mature for her age, but that was not the logic of a student. That was the logic of someone who had to burden the responsibility they had no business bearing in the first place. Mature for her age was one thing, jaded was quite another.

His expression must have showed what he thought, because Ayako laughed when she saw his face. "Don't be so serious, Emiya. It's not like I hate the thought of being a captain. It's actually kind of interesting, the chance to order other people around when I want. It just sucks that it's going to happen so fast. Last week, I thought the biggest worry I would have this year was getting a good score at the competition; now, I'm the one who's going to have to organize the entire club for the next competition and make sure I get a good score."

He grimaced, not sure how to respond. He hadn't really been prepared to hear that kind of bizarre tale when he asked her what was wrong, but he had to give it to her, she was a lot tougher than she looked. That was something when you considered she looked like she could beat Shinji in a fist fight.

"I see. Sorry I brought everything up; it can't have been pleasant to explain everything when this event was supposed to be a good memory." She waved away his apology, sending him a smile as she stood back up.

"It's the other way around. It felt good talking about it with someone else. I've been going crazy just thinking about it by myself. It was a nice change of pace." She might have continued, but a loud crash alerted them of the failed attempt to decorate the tree. Rolling her eyes, Ayako walked to the living room, Shirou right behind her.

As expected, the tree wasn't even standing. It was on the ground, a fallen chair and student right next to it. Interestingly enough, the student was not Shinji Matou, and the teacher called Fujimura Taiga was nowhere to be seen.

Grabbing the arm of the fallen student, Shirou pulled him up to a standing position using his good arm. He ignored the pain in his other shoulder; his muscles must have moved involuntarily.

"Where's Shinji and Fuji-nee?" he asked the dazed student.

"I don't know, really. She said something about the kitchen, but I don't know when. She told me to start setting up the tree if she wasn't back in twenty minutes, so it must have been that at least, but we started working on it a while ago, so…."

"That's all right, I've got it. You go get Fuji-nee back here while I start lifting the tree," he said, rolling up the sleeve of his good arm. Or he would have, if he hadn't felt a fist strike his ribs. Coughing, he looked back at the perpetrator, before shrinking back at the accusing tone in Ayako's eyes.

"As I recall, you are the one with an injured shoulder. Now tell me, what does an injured person think he's doing lifting a tree?" Ayako said in that horrifyingly hollow voice of hers.

"It's not that hard and it's just this once?" he answered, confused. Her smile became even more strained.

"Is that so? Then I must have been dreaming about the Emiya who was climbing a tree to help a cat down."

If Shirou wasn't sweating bullets before, he sure as hell was now.

"Oh…. You saw that, did you?" He tried to laugh it off, but it seemed to be the wrong move. Her eyes were practically slits, that was how narrow they had become.

"Indeed I did, Emiya." Ayako Mitsuzuri spoke with a deadly edge. "Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to find Shinji and Fujimura-sensei while you sit down, read a book, and wait for us to fix the tree. If I come back and find you holding anything associated with trees except for the paper in a book, then I'm going to get really mad. Understood?"

Her vocal cords could have frozen to ice and it wouldn't have made her words colder. His body moved before he could register the movement, and his head nodded in response to commands.

"Good, now go find somewhere to sit and read. I have two fugitives to catch." She disappeared into the hallway as she spoke, leaving him and the dazed student alone. As the other student left, Shirou resigned himself to his fate. Although he didn't want to do it, it seemed he had no other choice.

He had to read.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have had any problems with reading. Quite the opposite, one of Shirou's interests were history and mythology. Reading about ancient heroes such as Herakles and Minamoto no Yorimitsu had been one of his favourite past times since… as long as he could remember. The problem was that even before the injury he had sustained not too long ago, he had been studying more often than not in order to pass the exams. After the injury, that time had only increased since he neither practice at the club nor do his normal part-time jobs.

Now he was looking at the book case, and the dread he was feeling was not insubstantial. He let his eyes roam over the backs of paperbacks and hardcovers. Historical textbooks, fiction, biographies, and other kinds of books filled the shelves with their ink covered pages. There came a point when he wasn't even looking at them anymore, his eyes staring blankly into space. He must have stood there for at least five minutes, not even thinking about what kind of book he would read.

Did he even need to read a book? Ayako had told him to read one, but that was mostly to stop him from helping out with the preparations for the Christmas party. He could find something else to pass the time with. He could watch TV, but Ayako had told them not to since it would distract those who had to help out, especially the lazy ones like Taiga and Shinji.

He looked around the room, searching for something to distract him, but Ayako's home wasn't good for distractions. Much like his own, most of the Mitsuzuri household was relatively spartan compared to most Japanese households. The Emiya household had become cluttered as of late due to a certain Fujimura Taiga bringing a bunch of trinkets and junk over because she thought they were interesting. Some of them had found their way into his 'workshop', but most of them gathered dust in the house.

Ayako's house, on the other hand, had no hyperactive teacher coming home and messing everything up. It was clean and devoid of junk. It meant Shirou's search for distraction was the equivalent of fishing in the Dead Sea. The day's catch was pathetic.

Resigning himself to his fate, he returned to the shelves of books.

Some of them looked rather interesting, actually. There was a book about Japanese legends, wrapped in some kind of ancient looking hard leather. He was willing to bet it had enough age to be considered an antique. He didn't dare touch it, the possibility of him damaging it being high when he only had one arm to hold it with. He left it sitting on the shelf; hopefully someone who could appreciate it would one day pick it up.

A few other books caught his eye, but nothing too amazing. A few biographies by famous people, a book about western archery (Ayako had a treacherous mind it seemed), a book about cooking for the one you love, and a few books about naginata-based styles of martial arts. The books about the naginata were interesting, and it wasn't a martial art he was accustomed to. He only had experience with the Japanese bow and kendo. It might be fun to read about a new weapon for once.

He was about to choose one of them when he noticed another book on the shelf. It wasn't the title that grabbed his attention, nor was it the binding. It wasn't a gaudy book meant to draw people's attention. It was a simple black book, about the size of an A5. The binding was a series of rough strings, and the leather covers were worn and tattered. If he had to guess, judging by the binding and the condition of the covers, the book was more than a hundred years old, possibly older since leather was a durable material and it was hard to wear leather out if it was used as a book cover.

It was no published book, that was for certain. The amateurish bindings were not the quality of even pre-industrial book binders. Most likely the writer had bound the book himself and used it for his own purpose rather than to sell it. A journal, perhaps? He picked it up and tried to find what it was called.

There was no title. As he picked it up and checked both sides of the covers, he found no hint of what is was about. He couldn't find anything which could lead him to the identity of the writer, either. The leather was old; running his hand over the black cover he could feel the cracks and rips on the surface. Two leather cords had been tied together to hold the book shut, but they were old and seemed as if they would break at the slightest touch.

He had to admit it, his interest had been roused. He genuinely wanted to read it now.

He looked around and found the seats he and Ayako had been sitting on. Had he been able to use both his arms, then he would have gladly used the comfortable chairs to sit in, but he needed a solid surface in order to open the book without destroying the covers. He needed a table, but the living room and dining room were not available due to the chaos currently happening inside those rooms. Delicate work needed lots of space and a quiet atmosphere. Taiga had a tendency to claim the former and destroy the latter.

Didn't the second floor have a study? He could sit in there and read while the others tore up the living room. Grabbing the book carefully in his good hand, he walked up the stairs. He had never been over to Ayako's house before, but he remembered her telling him the study was just a place where her parents could work and where she and her brother could study. They wouldn't mind it if he read a book in there, would they?

He opened the door to the study after making sure to knock three times. When he didn't hear anything, he walked inside and sat down on the comfortable chair next to the desk. Putting the book down on the expensive-looking desk, he tried to reach for the knot.

He tried to reach for the knot.

As soon as his fingers got close to the small knot of corded leather, his fingers started veering off course. It was as if he had drunk too much sake and was trying to insert a key into a lock. He had seen lots of drunkards try and open the car doors, but most of the time all they managed to accomplish was scratching the paint. The knot was just like that: he couldn't put his finger on it, literally.

He stopped and looked at the leather cords holding the book closed. Had Ayako really spiked the punch with alcohol, or was the book trying to stop him from opening it? He thought Ayako had meant it as a joke, but now there was a real possibility of it being true.

He ran outside, looking for his glass of punch. He found it next to the couches they had been sitting in. Grabbing it, he ran back upstairs and locked the study. Placing the small plastic cup on the floor, he sat down and readied himself. Steeling himself for the pain to come, he looked at the suspicious piece of plastic.

"Trace… on," he spoke, and the pain in his neck was instantaneous. Even if he was prepared for it, creating a circuit was not something he was fond of doing. He had no idea how Kiritsugu managed to make it look so easy.

Structural analysis was the only magecraft he knew how to use. It was the only one Kiritsugu had taught him. A magus without talent such as himself would never be able to do much more, but it had its uses. The student council and staff of his school certainly appreciated his 'talents' with technology, even if they had no idea it was only because of his lack of talent in magecraft that he was able to help them fix the issues they had with the budget.

Now he was using that piece of otherwise useless magecraft to see if there was any alcohol in his drink.

He doubted anyone would think that was a good use of magecraft, not unless they had reason to believe anyone seriously wanted to poison them.

Although he discovered that Ayako had gone all out with the fruit since he found at least twelve kinds of fruits in it and an unhealthy amount of sugar, he found no amount of alcohol or drugs in the drink. He had surmised as much; he didn't feel like he was drunk. Although he had never been drunk before, he had tasted a few different kinds of drink, not all that surprising considering his guardian was the heir to a yakuza organization and he worked at a liquor store. He was in full control of his mind and body, so how come he had not been able to touch the book's lock?

He knew the answer to it, but it shocked him just as much as it scared him.

The book belonged to a magus. Someone had put a spell on the book to stop anyone from opening it, a book which belonged to Ayako's family. Did that mean Ayako was a magus? He had no idea if she was; she had not shown any signs of being one, but he wasn't exactly the most competent to begin with.

Could he still open the book? The damage was most likely already done, and even if he returned the book, they would know someone had tried to open it. Should he put it back where he found it? Or should he continue trying to open it?

Considering that whoever had placed the book on the shelf hadn't bothered to conceal it, he doubted the owner would have a problem with anyone reading it. He could always ask Ayako about it. If she was a magus, then she might just tell him to put it back since he couldn't open it. She didn't need to know he was a magus, in case she wasn't one as well.

Picking up the now confirmed magic book, he went downstairs again. If he was Ayako Mitsuzuri and he was looking for Taiga Fujimura, where would he look?

The kitchen.

He made a beeline for the kitchen, careful not to swing his sling around too much as he dodged the other club members. The kitchen was in disarray when he found it. Pots and pans had been discarded into the sink when the dish cooked in them had been finished. Ingredients covered every surface he could see and the finished dishes were barely halfway finished.

The reason for this mayhem? Fujimura Taiga.

As he arrived, he overheard the rant Ayako was giving the teacher. From what he could piece together, Taiga had decided to taste the dishes to make sure they weren't poisoned or something, but once a tiger started feeding, it was impossible to stop it. The teacher was sitting on a chair, holding her stomach as she groaned in pain, small burps escaping her throat occasionally.

It was quite the scene, but he had other things to worry about. Such as if Ayako knew what the book was about.

"Ayako," he called out to the future captain of the archery club. The caramel-haired student stopped her rant to look at him. "Do you know what this book is about?" he asked her, carefully observing her face for any signs of a lie.

"That book? I don't know, I've never read it. It was something we got from our uncle after he died. I never had an interest in it, so I never bothered. Do you want to read it?" She barely gave him a glance as she was too busy glaring a hole into Taiga after her food marathon.

"Thanks," he hurried back up and locked the door once more. This was the first sign of magecraft he had found since Kiritsugu first began to teach him. His heart was pounding in his chest once he sat down on the chair. He tried to untie the knot once more, but as expected his fingers never even touched the knot.

So he needed to find a way to undo the spell on the book? That would be hard considering he only knew structural analysis and he couldn't even do projection properly. Still, he only had the book for a limited amount of time. If he wanted to read the contents of the book, he needed to try as much as possible before the night was over.

An idea came to him. If he needed to understand the spell used to lock the book, couldn't he use structural analysis to analyse the spell? Did magic work on magic items? It should, shouldn't it?

He put his hand on the book, slowly inching its way closer to the lock. If his theory was correct, then it would be better to use the magic to analyse the spell while it was active. As his finger started to veer away from the knot, he created the circuit and cast the spell.

He hadn't even begun analysing the spell before the tightly bound knot flew open and the book opened on its own accord. The pain in his neck blossomed, and although the book had opened, he still analysed it. It was possible that he had activated another spell by opening what had been locked. Kiritsugu had told him of magi who would hide horrible spells under other less evil ones.

Even though he had opened the book, Shirou found no sign of magecraft other than the fading traces of what seemed to be a locking spell. That was new; he had never seen traces of a spell before. Actually, he had never analysed a spell before, so he wouldn't know what a spell looked like, but he could tell that there was something mystical about this book that was tied to the cords. That was the locking spell, he assumed. The traces were rapidly disappearing now that the spell was unlocked, however; did that mean the spell was permanently disabled?

He would worry about that later. He had a book to read.

He turned to the first page and looked at the name written in cursive English:

 _Zachary Ainsworth_

He had never heard of the name before, but that was to be expected. Aside from legendary magi such as Merlin and Morgan, the names of magi Shirou knew were limited to those with the Emiya name. The thing that he did find strange was the fact that the name was foreign, most likely European. What was a European journal doing in japan?

But those kinds of questions would have to wait. He flipped the page and began to read. The book was in English, not his best language at the best of times, but it was also an old variant. It was most likely significantly older than a hundred years old.

 _My name is Zachary Ainsworth. I am a magus of the Ainsworth family, and its current head. Unfortunately, it also appears that I will be the last head of the Ainsworth. This journal is not going to be like my other journals. Those were meant to record my progress on the way of magecraft as a means to show other families how great the Ainsworth family is._

 _If only I hadn't been so arrogant, then perhaps this book would have been like them, a testament to our perfection. Instead, I challenged a greater family, and we suffered for it. My siblings were murdered, my children taken from me, and before I managed to escape, that wretched beast called Barthomeloi cast a spell at me. It was a simple cutting spell of wind, but when cast by those monsters, it might as well have been a hurricane. I managed to escape with my life, but that thing's aim was impossibly superb. She never aimed for my heart, it was my manhood she wanted._

 _I have now lost the ability to procreate and leave children behind, and those I already have are probably slaves to the Barthomeloi if they haven't chopped them into pieces for ingredients already. Our entire history has been destroyed because I couldn't hold my drink and accidentally called the Barthomeloi 'a fine woman, but nothing else'. I have no excuse, I cannot defend my actions. I was drunk and it cost me everything._

 _My crest is meaningless, now. Even if I somehow manage to acquire all the rare tomes we had before she attacked, the crest is useless without a blood relative. It might have been possible to create a homunculus using my blood, but I have neither the tools nor the knowledge to make one. It may seem a waste, but I have already given up on passing the crest onto another generation. I will endeavour to create an acceptable homunculus on the possibility of passing it along, but I have already come up with a more fitting task._

 _Instead of trying to regain lost prestige, I will create new fame instead. As I have no children to pass the craft to, I will have to settle for whoever is reading this book. You, my friend, will become the magus who will ensure the Ainsworth do not fade into obscurity as the family who disrespected the Wolf of the Clock Tower. It might not be the year you find this book, it might not even be the same century, but the world will know that the Ainsworth had more to offer the world than momentary amusement derived at the misfortune of the drunk._

 _Perhaps you have no history with magecraft, perhaps you do. I have no way of knowing, but I will assume you are a beginner to the art. The spell I cast on this book will ensure only those with magical potential will be able to open it. I will write everything I know in this book starting from the basics. Know that this will only be the first volume. Hopefully you will have found the other volumes with this one. This book in particular will only cover the basics of magecraft, as I need to ensure the next magus to carry the burden of the Ainsworth family is grounded at least._

 _With that over and done with, please, let us start this journey into the moonlit world together._

A journal containing the basics about magecraft?

That was…

That was perfect!

This had been everything he had been missing. Kiritsugu had no books about magecraft. What little he taught Shirou had been verbal and incredibly short. All of his lessons had been reluctant to the end, as Kiritsugu had not wanted him to study magecraft at all. Trying to make Kiritsugu continue teaching each lesson was like pulling teeth.

This book, on the other hand… it was a goldmine. The basics might not mean much to a magus like Kiritsugu, but for a hack like Shirou with no talent whatsoever, it was like an oasis in a desert. If he could take this book back home with him, he could finally make some progress with magecraft.

Would Ayako allow him to borrow the book? She did not seem to be very interested in it, so she might not care. From what he could tell, she didn't seem to mind him reading it, even though it had been locked on her bookshelf for years perhaps. Did the book have another spell on it, maybe a spell to make non-magi not want to read the book? It made sense if it did; no magus would want to expose the world of magecraft to the world, even if they were desperate for students to teach. It was possible that the book would make anyone incapable of magecraft or creating a circuit uncaring of who took the book.

In the end, theories were just theories. He needed to read as much as possible before the party was over.

 _Chapter 1_

 _The basis of all magecraft is prana. Circuits are the reason humans can manipulate prana…_

* * *

 **With Proper Guidance**

* * *

As predicted, Shinji had spent as much time as possible procrastinating. He had watched TV, played video games on Ayako's little brother's console, gone out to buy ice cream, and taken a shower after being splattered with punch. It was as if he had an allergy for hard work. And if that wasn't enough, Taiga had pretty much done the same thing after eating up most of the food, including taking a nap in the master bedroom. It had taken the combined power of the club minus Shirou to force them to help decorate with the Christmas tree.

In hindsight, it hadn't been entirely Taiga's fault. She had been hanging out with a few of her grandfather's subordinates, and hadn't noticed that the drinks they had given her contained alcohol. This had been before they had dropped her off at the party, and it hadn't been so obvious at first that she was drunk, but after a while her behaviour became too outrageous even for the normal Taiga. Once she started singing and dancing, they had become suspicious, and after a few questions, it became apparent what had happened.

That was only Taiga's excuse, and as a result she had been the only one spared from Ayako's fury; Shinji had no such excuse and was forced to endure her wrath all by himself. Shirou wanted to help him, but knew better than to brave the glare of Mitsuzuri Ayako. Only those with a death wish tried that.

Besides, Shirou had been too busy fuming in the corner, silently directing his anger at Kiritsugu for not being a better teacher. It was probably the only time he had ever expressed any negative feelings towards his dad which didn't stem from the destruction of his kitchen when Kiritsugu tried to cook.

Kiritsugu hadn't taught him how to use magecraft properly. Kiritsugu hadn't even taught him how to activate his circuits. 'Creating a circuit', how had he been able to come to that conclusion? What kind of magus was Kiritsugu? He hadn't even known what kind of magecraft Kiritsugu was capable of. As a teacher, shouldn't his dad have at least explained the basics of the basics? The bare minimum of enacting a mystery, the activation of circuits, shouldn't that have been the first thing he'd been taught?

Had it been intentional on Kiritsugu's part? Was it Kiritsugu's idea of hindering from the grave? He had been against Shirou's learning of magecraft, and by essentially crippling Shirou's ability to practice it, he had been able to ensure Shirou wouldn't go overboard with his ideas. It could have been his only way to protect Shirou from the grave.

However, it didn't feel like something his old man would do. Kiritsugu was not that kind of underhanded trickster who would hurt his own family. He probably hadn't meant for Shirou to misunderstand his teachings, even if Shirou had no idea how he misunderstood it to such a degree. Creating and activating were two completely different concepts. Only a child could have mistaken them for one another…. He HAD been a child when he started learning magecraft. He had also been a little too eager to start learning, and hadn't paid as much attention as he probably should have.

Even if he could theorize the reason for his misunderstanding, it did nothing to quell the irritation burning in his chest. In fact, it was probably doing the exact opposite. It was feeding kindle to the small ember until it could turn into a bonfire, if he had to put his thoughts into words. The best thing he could do was probably to move on, to focus on what he had learned and continue learning even more.

As he swallowed his anger and went to the dining room for the Christmas dinner, his thoughts remained on the small book he had found. Even as Taiga clumsily spilled punch on Shinji's head, he only half-heartedly threw a towel in Shinji's direction. The food was good, but he didn't spend too much attention on it. Normally he would try to analyse how a dish was cooked and what spices were used, but he didn't much care for it. He simply wanted to get back to the study and read more. He finished the meal as fast as he could and played some games with the club, but when he saw the chance, he bolted up the stairs.

When the night ended and everyone was going home, Shirou barely registered the knock on the door. Quickly closing the journal, he looked back to find Ayako peeking in. She looked tired and in serious need of sleep, but the smile on her face was genuine. Whether it was because of the party or their conversation he didn't know, but something had helped, at least.

"S'up, you tired?" She closed the door and sat down in the chair next to him. Her speech was sluggish, and she suppressed a yawn as she spoke. How late was it? He checked his wristwatch and winced at the time.

 _03:30_

He had been reading longer than he had thought. If he had found the book around 9 PM and eating dinner had taken a little less than an hour, then he had been reading for well over five hours. He hadn't noticed the time fly by, probably because he had paced his reading. He had carefully memorized every piece of information he had found. At first he had thought about writing everything down, but eventually decided not to. It was better not to leave any evidence behind. He still needed to ask Ayako for permission to borrow the book so he could study it at home.

"A little, you?" His voice was quiet. Even if they were alone in the house, it was way past midnight, and a lifetime of manners had been ingrained into him. If the neighbours were asleep, then it was only proper to be as quiet as possible.

"I'm fairly… exhausted I think is the right word." She slumped into the soft chair and closed her eyes in blissful comfort. "I had no idea it would be this tiresome to have a party with Fujimura-sensei and Shinji. It's as if they actually worked against the party the entire way."

He chuckled at her words, stopping when she cracked one eye open to give him a tired glare. "They're the lazy type, so I wouldn't have counted on them helping to begin with. Especially Shinji, he's a tricky one." Matou Shinji was many things, but Shirou wouldn't say helpful was one of them.

"Tell me about it," Ayako said, barely awake in the armchair. "We missed you, though; you spent all your time up here with that book. Is it really that interesting?"

Shirou felt his entire body stiffen as she said it. How would he explain the book to Ayako in a way that would let her borrow it? If he said it was a book about magecraft, she might not let him borrow it since she would want to read it herself, but even as a failed magus he knew it was better to keep it a secret. Then how would he tell Ayako what the book was about without letting her read it?

"It's actually… kind of interesting. It's some kind of handwritten story," he said, which was actually true. "The main character is a wizard who tries to teach his student magic. The funny thing is that the student is the reader, in a way. So if the student fails or succeeds to learn magic is up to the reader."

The truth was that he was an awful liar. He could never tell a convincing lie without it showing on his face in some way that he was uncomfortable. Taiga had made it a game to rate his lies whenever she spotted the signs on his face that he was lying. So far she had never rated his lies better than 4.5, whatever she meant by that.

But there was one thing he knew was vital to a magus: The ability to conceal magecraft.

A first-rate magus had several ways to do it. He could create a bounded field to hide his workshop from civilians, or he could create one which would eliminate those who tried to enter it without permission. Using hypnosis, he could tell people without magic circuits or the necessary magic resistance to forget the existence of magecraft. Another way to hide magecraft was the complete eradication of anyone connected to it in the first place.

Needless to say, Emiya Shirou was not a first-rate magus. In the first place, Kiritsugu had tried to teach him to be a spell-caster rather than a magus. Creating a bounded field was too advanced for him to begin with, and he wasn't about to kill Ayako because he wanted a book she owned. And if he could hypnotise, he wouldn't be struggling with magecraft to begin with.

So how had he managed to conceal his status as a magus for all these years, then, despite his lack of talent?

Lies.

Shirou was a terrible liar. Fujimura Taiga knew it. Kiritsugu knew it. Ayako knew it. Shinji knew it. Even he knew it. He was a catastrophic failure as a teenager. Whether it was keeping the alcohol he got from the store as a gift a secret, or the fact that he accidentally broke Taiga's favourite bowl when doing the dishes, every single time he tried to tell a lie, everyone would know he was lying.

The only exception was when it came to magecraft. The thought that Taiga might find out about magecraft and be killed as a result because the administrator of the land wasn't keen on having the secret of magic revealed to the world was a sobering thought, one so frightening he was actually able to make them believe his lies.

But desperation wasn't enough to make people believe him. It only made him more inclined to put more effort into his facial expression and tone; he still needed to make his lies seem more realistic. That was why he tried to stick to the truth as much as possible. `He needed to be alone whenever he fixed the equipment because he was nervous when working´, was technically true, but the nervousness actually came from the possibility of people realizing he was a magus rather than stage fright.

Now he was sticking as close to the truth in order to make Ayako believe him, because he knew his face would reveal his lie if he tried to make up something entirely different. He had become fairly good at lying, for a hack.

Ayako didn't care very much about his interests, it seemed, though. Her eyes were barely open, and it seemed as if she would fall asleep at any second. Considering the time, he should probably have left already. Ayako was one of those types who would not relax until the party was over and all the guests had left. He was probably the only one still here, and Ayako was waiting for him to go home. At the same time, she was too polite to kick him out herself. For a girl as tomboyish as Ayako, she had a surprisingly gentle side to her.

"I should probably go home. You look like you're about to pass out from exhaustion," he joked, and had to dodge her lazily swung fist.

"If you knew that, then why did you comment on it?" Ayako grumbled into the chair's stuffing. He suppressed a laugh at her appearance.

"No reason, just thought you might want to go to bed." He got up, careful not to show her the contents of the book. "Do you mind if I borrow this book for a while?" Tying the leather cords into a knot, he felt some kind of force tighten the cords until he doubted he had the strength to open it with brute force. Most likely the spell had activated once more and he would have to use prana to open it.

"Hmm? That one? Sure, but is it really that interesting?" She eyed him with her left eye, her right one having succumbed to sleepiness.

"It's surprisingly well-written," he explained, and it was the truth. It did a good job of explaining all the things he had done wrong over the years with his circuit. `Creating a circuit´, how ridiculous…

She yawned and sank deeper into the chair. When she opened her eyes, she gave him a tired nod. "Okay, just make sure not to break it. There's nobody in this house who wanted to read it, but it's a family heirloom or something. My parents would kill me if you broke it, but they won't care if you borrow it." She got up, reluctantly leaving the chair and its warm padding. "Now, I think it's time to wrap everything up. I assume you remember the way to the door?"

"I'm injured, not amnesiac."

"Good, because I'm not going to see you to the door. I don't think I would make it back up the stairs before falling asleep, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave you behind here."

She waved him goodbye at the stairs as he left, his hand gripping the book tightly in his hands. He used the extra key Ayako had told him about to lock the door behind him before slipping it into the mail slot. The walk back to the Emiya residence was cold, as it should've been considering it was only a few days left before Christmas.

The cold didn't bother him, though. In fact, he felt as if a fire had been lit in his chest. Maybe it was the excitement from the discovery he had just made, maybe it was the many times he had activated his circuits that night, but he knew he had just made a huge step in the right direction that night. For the first time in years, he was able to do something about his lack of progress.

He had only been able to go through a few chapters before the party was over, but what little he had learnt had been extraordinary. So many things he had missed when Kiritsugu had been teaching, things the book had showed him were the basics. Formalcraft and alchemy, even strengthening and projection had been mentioned, although he had not actually reached the part that described different kinds of spells.

A new page had been written, a page starting with Emiya Shirou's discovery of real magecraft. He would become a real magus.

He would become a real hero of justice.


	2. Fire burn and cauldron bubble

**So it's been a while since this story was updated. It sure took a while, didn't it? In my defence, FGO is highly addicting (Even though they haven't released any EU servers yet) and I've been so busy levelling my servants I may have neglected my writing. It's also nice to see my luck with gold sabers and lancers remains the legendary E- as always. It took me over 250 days to get a Gold saber (Siegfried) and lancer (Lancetoria Alter). Now I just have to level them and their skills up. Wish me luck! I'm all out of Yggdrasil seeds, Phoenix plumes and Meteoric horseshoes. It's time to farm again.**

 **Then again, not having a gold star lancer did let me focus my attention on Cú Chulainn. Having a lv 80 Irish Herakles with 10/10/10 skills and max Fou points makes fighting most bosses a lot easier than it used to be. Once I've raised Robin to lv 80 and Siegfried to Lv 90 I can focus on getting Cu to lv 90 as well. Soon my harem of Husbandos will be complete!**

 **What do you mean "Wanting to have a male harem is gay!"? I have a harem of Waifus as well so that can't be true.**

 **But you're not reading this AN in order to find out what servants I have on the NA server. You're here for my…?**

 **Actually, why are you here?**

 **It doesn't matter. As you might have guessed, this story is pretty different from my other stories. It's not a crossover or a time travel fic. I have difficulties keeping myself to a single story when I'm writing. I get this awesome idea for a Xover, but after two or three chapters I give up on it because I didn't think it through. It might be because the source material isn't that far ahead as in Danmachi's case or it might be because I had to make too many revisions to the story and I no longer felt like it was worth writing any longer.**

 **Archer of Black is my longest story so far and one I'm most definitely going to continue writing. I didn't bother writing 245,000+ words just to stop before the second arc began. Archer of Black is my main story at the moment and it will remain so for the foreseeable future.**

 **That said, With Proper Guidance will be my second main story. It's gonna be a slow starter, but I'll probably alternate between AOB and WPG just so that I won't be burned out from writing a single story only. I'll most likely write two or three chapters for one story before doing the same for the other. So the next chapter I write will be for WPG and the next after that will be for AOB.**

 **The Omake at the end was initially a adventure/humour fic I was going to write, but I decided to leave it as an Omake to save my writing for the stories I already have. There's no point in releasing more stories if I'm just going to write 2-3 chapters for them.**

 **As always, thanks to 7137 for being my beta. My writing would look horrible without someone to help me edit the writing. 7137 did an excellent job pointing out my typos and grammar mistakes.**

 **Now it's time for Spoilers!**

 _ **(Spoilers)**_

 _ **I made up a lot of stuff for this chapter, but most of what I wrote won't have a big effect later on. The whole activation ritual was pure fiction because I couldn't find anything related to what the actual process is like except for what happened in FSN and Shirou didn't have a prana-infused jewel to kick-start his system.**_

 _ **Actually, that's about it. I didn't really have that much to say about this chapter at the moment. I might add a few things in here in the future, but I'm currently tired and have to go to sleep. It's funny how most of my updates are released at midnight.**_

 _ **Bye!**_

 _ **(END)**_

* * *

" _Activating one's circuits is a delicate procedure. Depending on what family or country you are born in, the method used varies depending on materials available. Certain Scandinavian families use hallucinogenic mushrooms to enter a trance, and in doing so, activate the circuits. Some Asian magi do the same using incense, though I can't verify the exact herbs and oils the compound consists of. I was able to acquire a single stick of incense from an Asian magus, but the quality was subpar, I'm afraid. The only active ingredients I discovered were kyara and sandalwood. These two also happen to be the most common ingredients in Japanese incense, so perhaps there is a connection to the mystical properties and its widespread use."_

" _Regardless, I intend to teach you the most basic of methods. Formalcraft is by far the easiest form of magecraft an amateur can learn, and it will be how you shall unlock your circuits. If you had a proper teacher at hand, then they could most likely activate your circuits in an instant using a technique which directly affects them, but you are beginner without a master other than I. You shall have to bear with it."_

Shirou was sitting in his room reading the mysterious book he found at Ayako's house. He had spent the entire night reading and had slept through most of the day as a result. Most of what he had learned the night before had already left his memory, a testament to how tired he had been. After having slept and eaten, he was finally ready to begin his education as a magus.

The first step would be to activate his circuits, and he had eagerly begun to read the chapter on the subject. After finding it at the very beginning of the book once more, he started reading and taking notes on important details. It was a brief introduction on the nature of circuits and a few theories on how humans might have discovered them. It was interesting, but not important information. He read through the first pages before he got to the activation process. It told him how to start the process. The ritual required an alchemical formula and a formalcraft circle, both of which the author would show.

The writer spent the next five pages on how to gather the ingredients necessary, mix them together, draw the formalcraft circle, and utter the proper incantation to activate the pupil's magic circuits. Aside from the list of ingredients being almost three pages long, the ceremony seemed relatively simple. He could use the storehouse in his yard to draw the circle. The thick stone walls would apparently help contain the ambient mana.

However, the ingredients did pose a slight problem. He had never even heard of some of them, and finding many of the others would be impossible. Finding a dandelion flower was relatively easy, but one aged over a decade? Was he supposed to wait ten years before he could activate his circuits?

According to the writer, it was possible to use alternative ingredients, but the effects might vary. He knew from the start he'd have to substitute some of them, but he hoped it wouldn't backfire too much. The first page seemed pretty simple, actually. He used several of them when cooking, though the amounts seemed rather ambitious. A kilogram of parsley? His spice rack didn't have that amount ready to be used, not when Taiga kept coming over for dinner.

"Let's take care of the simple items first. I can worry about the rest when I need them."

Writing down a shopping list of what he could get from the supermarket, he ripped the note from the pad and placed in his pocket. He had a lot of work to do, but it was for a good cause.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

Three days later…

Finding all the ingredients had been a nightmare. To be precise, finding most of the ingredients had been a nightmare. Some of the items on the list were impossible for a normal human to find without working as an herbalist or museum curator. He had to use substitutes for those particular reagents, and although the book said alternatives were possible, he wasn't sure just how much of the 'potion' could be made from substitutes and still function.

Luckily for him, helping the Fujimura Group without taking payment for it did earn him some favours. He couldn't ask them to bring him the more exotic or disgusting ingredients, such as a swan's heart or a rat's teeth, but the deer intestines and Scandinavian viper meat had been swiftly delivered. He had told them he was planning on trying out a new menu for Taiga, which he actually was. The Fujimura goons hadn't given him any trouble, particularly after he mentioned how disappointed Fuji-nee would be if she wouldn't be able to eat his cooking, especially after he spent so much time preparing for it.

The package containing the ingredients had been delivered the next day. None of them wanted to break the news to The Tiger of Fuyuki she wouldn't be able to taste Emiya-style Deer Sausage or Serpent Soup.

As odd as it was, he had cooked stranger things at her request.

He was finally in his storehouse, preparing the potion he was supposed to drink. Yes, he was supposed to drink the final product of whatever the book described. Reading the list of what he was going to put into his stomach made him shiver. He had checked several times for anything poisonous, but it all seemed fairly harmless. At most, he'd get a stomach ache and spend the next few days glued to the toilet. It still didn't make the potion seem any less disgusting.

Because he would be making a magical potion, as ridiculous as it sounded, he couldn't use his normal pots for cooking. According to the book, the best container in this scenario would be a pot made from pure iron, or as pure as possible. Carbon and other impurities could affect the potion. Since he didn't have an iron pot and buying one was surprisingly difficult, he had to use his tools to make one from scratch. He had gone to the scrapyard and found the largest piece of pure iron he could find and bought it, ignoring the weird looks he got. He borrowed some tools from the Fujimura Group, and after cutting it apart he had managed to weld himself a large pot, albeit a square and ugly one.

After pouring water into the pot and lighting the small gas stove underneath it, he began to draw the formalcraft circle. He wasn't going to draw it on the bare stone, though. He would place a large board on the ground and draw on it. It was easier to burn a wooden board covered in blood than it was to clean up dried blood on the ground.

Or so the book told him.

He had already decided to be wary of whatever the author had written.

The area he normally used in the storehouse was filled to the brim with items in need of repair, and not only would clearing it out take time and energy, but he would also have to categorize where he left everything in case he needed something later on. Instead, he went to the unused part of the storehouse.

The ground was covered in such a thick layer of dust, it was impossible to see the floor. Cleaning it wasn't necessary, since the board would be ruined anyway. He placed the hastily nailed together platform on the ground and coughed when the dust flew everywhere.

Next came the slightly morbid part of the ceremony.

While he didn't have to steal a bag of blood from the hospital, asking for a bottle of blood at the local butcher's shop had still been a nervous experience. Again, he used cooking as an excuse, and the clerk seemed to accept it. He had, however, been given a rather lengthy lecture on safety measures when cooking with blood. He had been interested in such dishes before, but after spending an afternoon being taught how to make black pudding, he figured it was worth a shot.

Pouring the blood and oil-based paints together into a large bowl, he took a knife and made a small cut on his elbow. In order to stabilize the circle, a tiny amount of the user's blood had to be mixed in with the paint before drawing it. Since he was going to be winging it on pretty much everything else, he was going to make sure the basics were as perfect as possible, or at least, as perfect as an amateur could make them.

" _Grind the bone to dust and pour it into the paint. The smaller the creature the bones came from, the more bones are required. After the dust has been added, make sure everything is mixed completely and evenly before you apply the paint. Ideally, the mixture should age a month before being applied, but without the proper spells to ensure the blood doesn't go foul, using it right away is the best you can do."_

Following the instructions, he drew the circle onto the small platform. He didn't know much about formalcraft, but according to the book, the circle he'd be drawing was the most basic of circles. It had a single purpose, and that was to create a barrier from the mana outside the circle. It was such a basic design, most other circles had it already incorporated into their foundation. Even Shirou, as inexperienced as one could be, was unlikely to screw it up.

It was the potion itself Shirou was worried about.

The formalcraft part didn't take long. The water inside the pot hadn't even begun to boil, even after he double-checked the result. That was good, since it meant the paint would have more time to dry before he began the ritual.

As the water began to simmer, he poured the first few ingredients into the brew. They were herbs anyone could find at their local supermarket. Parsley, thyme, and rosemary were simple enough to acquire, even if he had to go to different stores to get enough of them all. Why would he need such a large amount of herbs if he was only going to drink a single sip of the potion? It felt like a massive waste of money considering he would have to throw everything away after he was finished. He could feel his wallet shrink each time he paid for the groceries. Was that how using magecraft was supposed to feel like?

Discarding such thoughts, he began the long process of brewing the potion. Luckily, he didn't need to use any magecraft while brewing. The process had been made so that anyone could do it, magus or civilian. The water would absorb the magically active reagents inside the ingredients on its own, leaving him the simple task of stirring the potion to ensure it didn't burn at the bottom. The pace at which it absorbed them, however, left much to be desired. The potion would take three hours to complete, and he had to be present for all of it.

Three hours of stirring in a pot when the contents of said pot smelled like garbage.

Did all first generation magi have to go through this ordeal? If so, it might have helped keep the knowledge of magecraft a secret. If everyone who wanted to become a magus had to go through this, then many of them would give up by the sheer effort required to even unlock the circuits.

They'd have to spend money, time, and effort on something they probably didn't even believe in. Ordinary people who found the instructions would probably think it was a joke or the result of a child's imagination. It made him wonder if the older families kept the simple methods to themselves for the sole purpose of making it difficult for normal people to become magi.

Time passed and Shirou's arms were soon covered in the foul-smelling brew. Due to the extreme heat required, scalding water would splash onto his hands and arms, blistering the skin even through the thick sleeves and gloves. All the ingredients had entered the pot, and the result was brownish grey sludge at the bottom of the pot. He didn't want to drink that.

The storehouse smelled like a skunk, and he was certain he smelled the same. Even the incense he had bought on a whim couldn't disguise the odour. It had been meant to aid in activating the circuits, but it had other uses as well, even if the fragrance of incense did little to suppress the smell. He used a plastic clothespin to keep his nostrils shut, but it was still an overpowering stench. He wanted to gag through the cloth covering his mouth, but he struggled through it, knowing it was almost over.

Two hours turned into three, and the potion was finally done. The heat had boiled away the water several times, so he had to refill it using the garden hose. It meant he had enough water to filter away the disgusting solids in the horrible stew, though he still doubted the taste would be anything to write home about. His stomach might have something to say about it, on the other hand.

He took one of the glass vials he bought online and sank it into the mixture. Filtering away the large pieces of meat and herbs, he got a slightly brown liquid as he pulled the vial up again. He let it cool down in the air for a few minutes before he began the ritual.

He took a deep breath to calm down. He was going to become a magus, a real one.

The clothespin and the cloth covering his mouth came off and he poured the potion straight into his throat.

It was horrible. He coughed and sputtered, trying desperately to swallow the potion. He didn't know how much of it went into his stomach, but an equal amount must have flown into the air. The taste was worse than rancid; it burned every receptor it came in contact with. It was rot incarnate.

He really wanted to puke. The taste of vomit was better than what was currently lingering in his mouth. He couldn't, though. He had to finish the ritual, or he would have to do everything from the beginning. He could throw up later, after he drank his own weight in water.

Slowly staggering to the wooden platform, he practically crashed down on it. He did make sure to avoid the paint, but the nausea was making it difficult. Flipping the book open, he started reading the incantation written in it.

"I am entering the… seventy-seven gates to the other side… of the world," he read, stopping only to suppress the urge to gag. "Life and death, I tread between them without guardian."

Something in his stomach burned, but it wasn't the potion. At least, it wasn't only the potion. It quickly spread to his chest and limbs. The pain escalated as he continued to speak. The burning sensation became a searing pain as thousands of hot needles tore their way through his flesh. His chest, his thighs, his arms, his hands, his feet, his skull, and his eyes screamed at him to stop, but the book had warned him about the pain. It was a possible reaction if some of the ingredients were substituted. It hadn't mentioned how bad the pain would get, though.

"Following the teachings of King Solomon, my knowledge will devour and consume. Each hurdle will become a stepping stone for my… entry to the Origin." His neck was breaking. His entire spine was shattering as he spoke, and the bones in his arms and legs were being pulverized. He could feel his teeth splintering with each word. The familiar pain of 'creating' a magic circuit had returned, but it was being amplified by the ritual. His injured shoulder was tearing itself apart, the scabbed wound bleeding once more.

It wasn't enough to make him stop.

Pain would never be enough to make him stop.

"One, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, and twenty-one are the signs of the spiral I seek. The swirl, the final goal, the cultivation of mankind, each shall I seek, each shall I obtain."

His throat was bleeding. Each word was battle to pronounce, one which threatened to kill him should he admit defeat. He couldn't feel his hands any more, either. They had been broken, shattered, melted, and incinerated before the third verse began. Soon his entire body would meet the same fate.

If he didn't finish the final verse, that is.

"I declare it, and therefore, so be it. Let the gates open, and the knowledge be taken."

Then he imploded.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the pain. He felt as if he had been run over by a truck and then lit on fire. Moving even a little made his joints creak in protest, like a rusty hinge. His skin was stiff and tight, as if it had shrunk in size while he was sleeping. Moving hurt, breathing hurt, trying to sleep hurt, everything hurt. His body felt a few degrees higher than what was usually considered to be a fever, and his forehead was dripping with sweat. His vision was blurry, and he suspected he might start hallucinating if he didn't drink some water soon. The heat and the pain were real, at least.

The second thing he noticed was the wetness of his shirt. It was weird, because aside from his sleeves which had been splattered by the potion, the shirt had been washed and dried that very morning. It shouldn't have gotten wet in that span of time.

Looking down at his clothing, he winced as he saw the reason for his wet shirt. It could have been a multitude of things which caused it. Blood, sweat, tears, or simple rain, but out of all things, it had to be what he absolutely did not want it to be.

He had been lying in a puddle of his own vomit.

The potion, and his breakfast, was now covering his face and clothing. Barely digested pieces of fish and rice clung to the fabric, and his gut reaction was to empty his stomach once more. He didn't, fortunately. Steeling his nerves, he contained the urge to vomit. His stomach felt like it had been punched repeatedly by a heavyweight boxer, and throwing up would have aggravated the sore muscles and bruised tissue.

Besides, he didn't want to add more work to what promised to be a long day of cleaning.

His body felt like it was one big bruise. The pain had diminished, and he no longer felt like he was at the bottom of bed of coal, but the heat had not disappeared completely.

The book had survived the ordeal without being covered in gastric juices and seafood. It had landed a fair distance away from the danger zone, although it had accumulated a hefty amount of dust from the floor. He needed to clean it as well, but that could wait. He needed to find out if the ritual had been a success.

Moving his body was a challenge. Even if it wasn't as bad as during the ritual, it still felt as if his nerves were made from molten iron. He stood up, and like a drunkard, stumbled to the book on the floor. He picked it up, careful not to let any vomit touch the precious paper. He blew away the dust and checked the part on how to switch on one's circuits. Then…

"Trace on."

The engine had been started. Prana rushed into his circuits, more than he had ever used in his life. One, two, three, four… twenty-seven circuits screamed as prana was pumped through them in their tired and bruised state. He dropped the book in his hands and tumbled to the ground once more. His muscles twitched, as if he had touched a live wire and been electrocuted. The burning needles returned, but at a lower intensity this time.

He stayed down, the cold floor cooling his burning fever. The entire day had been ruined, he had puke all over himself and his workshop, everything smelled rancid, and he was probably going to be sick all week.

However, he had become a real magus at last.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

Sadly, he couldn't stay on the floor where it was nice and cold. Despite his sick state, he still needed to clean up and get rid of the evidence before Taiga got home. If she saw even a single piece of evidence which might suggest something suspicious, then she would comb the entire estate after the truth. More often than not, her ideas of 'the truth' were hilariously wrong, but even she would come to some grim conclusion if she found a circle drawn in blood, the floor filled with vomit, and a feverish child that had been completely healthy just a few hours earlier.

In this case, her actual answer might be closer to the truth than anything she had ever come up with before.

Since burning the circle would take the longest, he decided to start with that. He broke the platform into planks, and was about to light a fire in the yard when he remembered the stench of the potion. He couldn't throw it in the dumpster. The entire neighbourhood would notice and ask what he threw in there. He couldn't just keep it around for the same reason. The only option left was to bury it, but that would leave a noticeable patch of dirt on the lawn… unless he covered it with a fire.

Sometimes, he really did appreciate Taiga's fixation for food. It gave him plenty of excuses for magecraft. Need to hide magical ingredients? Bury it in the yard, cover it with a campfire, and tell Taiga you're grilling marshmallows. If it's not broken, why fix it?

Digging a hole large enough to contain everything had been a struggle, since the soil was dense enough to stop the water from simply disappearing into the earth. Add his aching body and fever to the ordeal, and he almost collapsed once he finished. Pouring dirt onto the sludge was dirty work, but he managed in the end. Lighting the fire had been a cinch, and within minutes the foul odour had been replaced by the pleasant fragrance of burning oak and incense.

As the fire burned away the solid evidence, Shirou grabbed a mop and began removing the liquid evidence. If he hadn't felt like a punching bag, then he could have cleaned the entire storehouse, but that was too much for him in his current state. Mopping up the vomit was his limit, though he made certain to light a stick of incense as well. He opened the windows to let some fresh air in, sighing in relief as the cold winter air struck his face.

"It would have been nice to actually roast marshmallows," he complained wistfully. He doubted he would be able to, though. Once Taiga saw his face, bright red and hot, she would chain him down to a bed and stick a thermometer in his mouth. She had the most extreme reactions, but her heart was in the right place. Sadly, it meant he wouldn't be able to enjoy the marshmallows she would still be roasting, even in his absence.

He finished cleaning the storehouse before taking a shower. The potion and vomit had ruined his clothes completely. He knew the smell wouldn't come out in the wash, no matter how hard he washed it. The shirt and jeans had joined the wooden platform in the fire, quickly adding heat and further destroying the evidence.

He had decided to start roasting a little early, a selfish attempt to save some of the marshmallows for himself. That was when Taiga found him eating the crispy surface of the fluffy goodness. For a moment, her face seemed to blend into a bizarre mixture of emotions, ranging from confused, happy, angry, and delighted. She was obviously confused as to why he had lit a fire in his backyard. She was happy when she saw the fluffy confection over the fire. She got angry when she realized Shirou had started without her, and she was delighted when he handed her a second stick holding its own marshmallow.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or upset when she didn't notice his fever. It meant it wasn't as noticeable as he had initially feared, but it also meant Taiga was more interested in her food than in his wellbeing. He'd have to wait and see if she cared after she finished her meal. She had finicky priorities when it came to food and other people.

Or he could just get it over with as soon as possible. He was rather sick, after all.

"Fuji-nee, I don't feel so good." It wasn't a lie, because he felt like utter garbage. His fever hadn't gone down, and his every muscle felt as if it had been torn, ripped, or pummelled with a sledgehammer.

Taiga looked up from her snack, white smudges all over her mouth like a child.

"You don't? Now that I look at you, your face seems a little red…. Holy fudgesicle! You're burning up!" Her hand had barely touched his forehead before she snatched it away in shock. It returned shortly afterwards, but this time it was firmly pressed against the entire surface. Her palm was cool, similar to the floor in the storehouse. That was strange, though. Taiga had extremely warm hands, warm enough that he had never seen her wear winter gloves. She had been fine every winter ever since they met, claiming it was because she practised kendo.

How bad was his fever, if those hands felt cool?

The next few minutes flew by as Taiga became a human whirlwind of motion. As expected, she had thrown him into bed and told him not to leave under any circumstances. She had called a doctor from one of the many Fujimura hospitals, and the man had arrived in a sleek black car suspiciously fast. He had seen the car from the window, a fourth generation Honda Legend, pitch black with tinted windows. That was a Fujimura car, definitely.

The doctor took his temperature and checked things such as pulse, blood pressure, and what he had eaten lately. He was searching for a mundane cause, like viruses and diseases. He wouldn't find one, and it made Shirou feel a little guilty for having the man come to see him so late in the evening. It couldn't have been easy to be called by a frantic woman ordering him to inspect a patient. If the man's ruffled clothes were any indication, then he had been about to go to sleep when he got the call. Poor man, it couldn't be easy being a doctor employed by the yakuza.

The doctor gave finished his exam and told him it was just a fever. The slightly annoyed look in his eyes revealed his true thoughts on being dragged out of bed because a kid had a higher temperature than normal, though. Fortunately, the doctor couldn't be impolite in front of Taiga, so the man gave Shirou a bottle of pills and instructions to take one each day until the fever broke. Then he left with the same car as before, without even giving his name.

Everything had taken less than an hour, a feat which spoke of the Fujimura's influence more than anything else.

"Are you sure you're going to be fine like this? I can have someone bring you over to my place," Taiga said, concern evident in her voice. It was actually quite funny, since it took him being near deathly ill for her to refer to her house as her own. She had always insisted on calling his house her home.

"I'm fine, Fuji-nee. I just need to rest for a few days, like the doctor said. I don't even need to call my teacher, since she already knows," he joked. Having one's guardian as a teacher was rather convenient, especially in the case of magically induced fevers.

"Really? I can take you on my scooter right now," she offered. He shook his head immediately, hoping she didn't notice how he paled at the thought of being driven by her. Nope, there was no way he was getting on a scooter with Taiga. She might somehow have gotten a license for it, but that didn't mean she was safe on the roads. He had made that mistake once, but he only needed to experience that journey once to know it was hell to let Taiga drive.

Luckily for him, the poor lighting must have concealed his fear. Instead of pressing the matter, Taiga merely gave him a hug before putting on her jacket.

"Okay, but promise me you'll call if you feel any worse. I'll come over right away." With those words as a good bye, the teacher left through the front door. He waited by the entrance, listening to the sounds of her leaving. The footsteps decreased in volume as she walked away, and soon enough he heard the engine of her moped come to life. It wasn't until the noise had completely disappeared that he went back to his room to find the book again.

Flipping to the chapter containing actual spells, he began his road as a proper magus.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

Sadly, it seemed that it would take a while before he could be considered a proper magus. His fever refused to go down and he spent most of the day sleeping. The painkillers the doctor gave him only made him sleepier, though the pain didn't bother him as much after he took them. He wanted to read the book, not lie in his futon covered in sweat. He tried to read the chapter about formalcraft, but his vision refused to focus on the page.

Each time he woke up he would repeat the cycle. He'd try to read, only to fall asleep within minutes. Sweat covered his skin in a futile attempt to cool his scalding body, only resulting in a drenched futon and a sticky sensation every time he tried to move.

As if that wasn't enough, he had actually managed to open the wound on his shoulder in the process. Taiga had fortunately not noticed, or she would have asked him how it happened. Lighting a fire shouldn't have required the kind of heavy lifting needed to tear open the scab. He was unsure if he could have explained how he re-injured his shoulder without revealing what he had actually done to injure it.

So the day passed and Taiga finally arrived to check in on him, her and a dozen men of the Fujimura group. The doctor took his temperature and pulse, noted that he should stay in bed and gave him a different medicine than before. It had a higher dosage than the previous one, but Taiga had to be the one to administer it since giving a minor access to hospital grade medicine was a recipe for disaster.

The entire group stayed for around an hour, or so it seemed to Shirou. He was too tired to keep an eye on what happened around him. He noticed when they put him in a clean futon and when he was fed some kind of soup, but his mind was still a haze. He passed out when the stronger drugs actually kicked in.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

His dream was bizarre. He dreamt of a sheath, a golden sheath which healed all wounds. It had been alone for years, without anyone to use it. He knew he had seen it before, though not where or when. It couldn't have been made by humans, or the surface would've been marred from traces of its creation. The perfection was impossible for human skill to create, but it existed somehow.

For a second, the gold shimmered. It could've been anything, or nothing at all. Gold tended to glimmer like that, even in dreams. Shirou knew it was a dream, even his feverish mind could tell it wasn't real. Even so, the golden sheath lit up for a slight instant and the pain melted away.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

The days passed as he slept, ate and tried to read the book he had borrowed. His circuits had stopped burning and he no longer felt like he was trapped in a sauna, but his fever hadn't subsided completely yet. According to the doctor Taiga brought in every other day, he simply needed to rest and drink plenty of fluids. That didn't stop Taiga from bringing him back to monitor Shirou's condition. He was fairly certain both he and the doctor had grown tired of the constant check-ups, but neither of them had the guts to tell Taiga that. The doctor feared what would happen if he told his boss's granddaughter she was being ridiculous and Shirou feared Taiga because she was Taiga, enough said.

At least he had recovered enough to do his own laundry and cooking, though he had not told anyone that he was doing his own chores. The yakuza heiress might've missed his cooking, but she wouldn't accept him doing anything strenuous until he had recovered completely. That would take a while though, if his book was right at least. He had succeeded in activating his circuits, but he had also gotten every single bad side effect it mentioned as well. The fever had been only one out of many, a fact Shirou was not looking forward to. The headaches were bad, but pretty soon he would experience aches in his joints, vomiting, and severe nosebleeds. He had already experienced the hallucinatory part of the recovery so the worst had already passed (a giant tiger wielding a sword had been the scariest part of it by far).

That said, even though the Fujimura subordinates had been ordered to help clean the estate, they weren't used to cleaning. It wasn't a part of their duties to mop the floors and do the laundry. Each day he would notice a slightly thicker layer of dust on the surfaces around the house. Under normal circumstances it wouldn't be an issue, but when taiga, the doctor, and the henchmen they brought with them walked around the house the dust gathered quite quickly. As more people entered his home, the urge to clean grew uncontrollable.

After a week he caved and spent most of the day doing the things his temporary housekeepers had missed. In other words, he did everything except the floor and the dishes.

Even without the fever, cleaning an entire house was hard work, but he felt it was worth it. It wasn't until he was done that he realized he could have spent the day learning magecraft, but he wasn't even upset about it. He actually felt better after all his chores were done.

Theoretically speaking, since he wasn't actually sick with a normal virus or disease, any advice the doctor or Taiga gave him would be pretty much useless. He knew the real cause of the symptoms, but Taiga assumed it to be a simple cold, despite her overreaction. He could've argued that doing his own chores could be a form of physical therapy, although it was a flimsy excuse even if they had known about magecraft. It made no difference in the end. His desire to live in a clean home overruled his common sense, especially when he kept on having guests over.

Flipping through the pages of his new book, he found the last page he'd read. It detailed simple exercises a magus could do after activating their circuits. Nothing as dangerous as actually casting a spell though, Zachary Ainsworth had made certain the reader realized they had to wait for at least two weeks before doing anything with their newfound abilities. Descriptions of necrosis and nerve damage filled the chapter following the instructions on how to activate the circuits. Since the circuits littered the body, using them too early and causing necrosis meant it would be impossible to remove all of the small pieces of dead flesh, especially the ones close to his internal organs.

No, he would wait until he felt better before he tried anything risky. Until then, he would settle for the exercises in the book.

" _The magic circuits will be fragile directly after activating them, but it is possible to stabilize them without the expensive concoctions available to the more established families of the Clock Tower. Most first generations don't know about these techniques and must therefore wait until they have recovered on their own. A first rate magus wouldn't bother with these exercises since they would take more time and the result would still be slower than drinking a potion, albeit a vile one. You, on the other hand, will most likely require all the help you can get. This is even more important if you suffer from any of the possible side effects."_

They seemed harmless enough, even the ones he had never heard about. Simple meditation seemed to be the overall theme, with a few physical exercises on top of it. The physical part was meant to find any injuries that could indicate dead tissue. Early detection of any damage could mitigate later complications, such as the previously mentioned necrosis.

At least, that's what he got out of the dense wall of text. He had to look up several of the words in a dictionary. Zachary Ainsworth had a habit of using as many technical terms as possible, as if he wasn't talking to a complete amateur. Because the language he was using was one several decades old, it wasn't the easiest read either. On the other hand, he had finally gotten used to the writer's style of writing. The entire book was written by hand and in the old cursive style as well. It hindered his progress, to say the least.

"Alright, let's try one out."

He went through the motions the book described. Similar to tai chi, the movements were meant to be slow and methodical, as a way to strain the sore parts of the body. If a muscle had decayed as a result of the activation ritual it might result in gangrene. The simple set of repetitions would help circulate the mana in the air into the body and help prevent the worst-case scenario.

Slowly, he moved his body in a set pattern. He wasn't able to detect the mana, but he could feel several parts of his body begin to relax, parts he had not realized were stiff and sore. Like a knot being unravelled, his muscles went from being hot and uncomfortably stiff to hot and limp overcooked noodles. After ten minutes, his body could barely move. He was once more covered in sweat, but a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He hadn't even noticed, but he had not been able to breathe properly since the ritual. His breaths had been short and fast compared to how he normally breathed, a possible reason for his migraine aside from the side effects.

Had Taiga noticed his breathing difficulties? Had he been the one who didn't understand his condition properly? If she had noticed his breathing then it would've made sense for her to call a doctor. Then again, the doctor himself had said it was just a cold so it shouldn't have been that bad. It might simply be a case of his underestimating his condition and Taiga overreacting because of it.

His arms felt like spaghetti, a sentiment shared by his legs. He had to start cooking soon, unless he wanted to eat the same instant food the Fujimura group brought over. Their hearts were in the right place, but his stomach couldn't handle another bland bowl of chicken soup. If only he had someone who actually knew how to cook to help him, he might be able to relax once in a while.

He grabbed the towel hanging by the door and wiped his face, drying his soaked hair in the process. Shambling over to the bathroom, he planned out the rest of his day. He felt much better compared to the previous day, but he still couldn't go to school or his part-time job. Aside from possibly going shopping, he was still effectively under house arrest. Taiga might even get angry if he went shopping, but he hoped that wasn't the case. He needed some way to get out of the house.

The sounds of the sputtering engine of an old vespa emanated from his front yard. He knew that sound, almost as well as the sound of Fujimura Raiga's motorcycle. It was an old model of vespa, one no longer for sale. He had spent hours searching for spare parts in various scrap yards and auto shops, all because the owner couldn't bear to part with it. Both he and Raiga begged the owner to consider buying a new one, but it had been in vain. Shirou was destined to spend many more hours repairing the old scooter, one rusty screw at the time.

Fujimura Taiga had better appreciate his effort. It was her scooter, after all.

The sputtering engine died, and (even though it was out on the street) he could still hear the need for an oil change. Despite several reminders that she had to learn how to maintain the basic parts of the scooter, the teacher had never actually done any maintenance. One of the reasons was the rarity of the model in question. Being one of the rarer vintage models, doing maintenance on it required a deft hand. Shirou himself had trouble in the beginning, despite his 'talent' when it came to mechanical issues. It was one of the main reasons he had become the main mechanic when it came to servicing Taiga's and Raiga's bikes.

It didn't make him feel any better whenever Taiga rolled in her vespa, crying about how it was broken, and asking him to fix it. He couldn't lie to her about it either, since he would know instantly if it could be repaired or not.

He really wished she would just buy a new model already. It would save them both so much time.

Tossing the towel into the bathroom, he hurried back to his bed. Hopefully she wouldn't notice the suddenly very clean interior, although he did hope the henchmen she brought with her would learn a thing or two from his example.

Easing himself into the futon, he winced as the cold, wet futon met his back. Lying completely still, he waited for Taiga's footsteps to draw near. He tried moving, but that only made the wet coldness even more uncomfortable.

He had to spend the rest of the night in that sweaty bed.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

 _Two weeks later…_

Recovering from the fever had taken longer than he had thought. Two weeks was a long time, especially when he wanted to start practising as soon as possible. He still knew he couldn't do any actual magecraft before the two weeks had passed due to the unstable nature of the recently activated circuits, but he still couldn't wait until he could cast his first spell again.

One of the tricks to getting over the fever had been to find a way to switch the circuits on and off. Reading though the chapters, he noted that the writer had a habit of haphazardly writing what he thought was important at the time. If this was because of habit or due to lack of time he didn't know, but he had made certain to read through entire book before trying to do anything again. If Zachary Ainsworth had bothered to mention that little detail just three chapters earlier than Shirou wouldn't have spent an extra week in a drenched bed every night.

So here he was, about to cast his first spell as an official magus. He took a deep breath and said the words:

"Trace on."

There was no pain or discomfort. A small amount of heat welled up in his chest, but it was almost unnoticeable. He had been prepared to feel liquid fire pour down his spine, but there was no such pain. Instead, all he felt was excitement.

As information flooded his mind, a smile fought its way to his lips. The engine in front of him was a lost cause, but the fact that he had been able to figure out that it was broken beyond repair instantaneously without feeling like his nerves were on fire was reason for celebration. The fact that it was the engine to Taiga's scooter was merely a bonus. Finding a replacement for the specific model would've been impossible due to its age, and altering a newer engine to fit the old vespa would be illegal.

He thanked whatever gods existed for safety regulations in the automotive industry.

"Trace off."

The tiny drain on his od stopped. It had been so miniscule he wouldn't have noticed unless he knew he was casting a spell. The stream of knowledge which had been pouring into his brain stopped, but the information he had already gained stayed in his mind, much like a blueprint. He had spent such a long time fixing the two-stroke engine he could probably create an internal blueprint from experience alone. Alas, Taiga had 'unfortunately' been a little too eager drive home last night, and she had pushed it past its limits. Steel is a wonderful material, but it's not invincible.

He picked up the dead engine and placed it in the corner of the room. The engine might be useless as it was, but it could still serve as spare parts for some other archaic piece of machinery. He'd lost count of how many times his evergrowing pile of scrap had saved a heater or fan. The engine could perhaps one day be of use as well. The rest of the bike might as well, since Taiga was clearly not going to be using it without an engine.

He blew away the layer of dust on the desk and opened the book he had been reading the last few weeks. Aside from checking to see if his circuits were stable, he had another reason in casting that spell. If he could handle Structural Analysis, then he should be able to handle a more complex spell.

More specifically, a healing spell.

His shoulder had not been healing as well as he had hoped, although it might've been his fault for tearing the wound open. He couldn't go back to practice with a wounded shoulder, and he really wanted to start training again.

That and he was starting to feel guilty over letting Ayako be the only mature member of the Archery club. Shinji seemed to have taken his newfound popularity like a fish to water, and it was taking it toll on Ayako's patience. She had called on on several occasions and complained about how Shinji kept bringing girls to the club for the sole purpose of showing off his skills. He would also harass anyone who got better results than him whenever he tried to impress his admirers. Ayako had been forced to butt heads with the blue-haired archer several times, all because Shirou wasn't around to curb Shinji's behaviour. He wasn't sure it was his fault, but he could at least try to get back earlier than expected.

The formalcraft circle in the book was, according to the writer, a basic one meant for isolating the mana inside the circle from the mana outside of it. This time he would add a secondary and a tertiary circle inside the larger circle. The secondary circle was meant to accelerate healing, and the secondary one would improve the natural healing process. Both were important for the spell at hand. With only one he would either get a large and hideous scar, or he would have to spend days inside the circle for the slightest improvement. Neither option seemed flattering in his opinion.

Drawing with the white crayon on the floor took its time, but at least he didn't need to make a platform for it. Crayon was easier to clean up than blood and much easier to explain as well. He wouldn't have to worry about leaving any evidence behind as much, a sentiment most likely shared by most magi in the world.

Formalcraft was one of the most versatile branches of magecraft for those without magic crests. Along with runes and alchemy, practitioners of formalcraft formed the backbone of first and second generations of magi. Because of its versatility, every magus knew how to drew a formalcraft circle.

The downside of formalcraft was also the reason for its versatility. The spells had to be cast using circles and long incantations, both time-consuming and boring tasks. That was the reason why more talented magi abandoned formalcraft in favour of more advanced branches of magecraft.

Shirou didn't need advanced magecraft capable of altering the landscape or binding spirits. He needed the absolute basics, like the healing circle. He would never be a master of magecraft, but he could do everything he could to help people with it. If Kiritsugu could save him, then he should be able to save others one day.

He finished the spell by connecting the ends of the outer circle. The book had said he wouldn't be able to tell the difference by himself, but the mana inside had been completely cut off from the outside world. There were mystic codes capable of measuring in precise measurements the amount of mana inside a specific circle, but those were only available to a first class magus. An amateur like him would never need an expensive instrument like that.

The stone floor was cold. It was to be expected given the season, but he suddenly wished he had put on his work clothes on top of his normal outfit. The healing ritual wasn't supposed to be messy or exhausting, so he had thought jeans and a sweater would've been enough inside the shed. He'd been wrong he discovered after sitting down on the bare concrete. He wasn't going to get up now though, not when he was about to cast the healing spell.

"Trace on," he whispered. The drain of od appeared once more, but only for a moment. The od had only been used to activate the spell. The rest would be powered by the ambient mana alone.

The crayon lines on the floor lit up for a fraction of a second before the light faded. The crayon turned to a burnt brown, and the smell of smoke permeated the shed. That was to be expected, considering ordinary crayon wouldn't be able to stand up to prana without being incinerated. It stung his nose on the other hand, and he was sure he'd have to air the shed out properly later. At least he had left a window open so he wouldn't die from any potential poisonous fumes.

A crawling itch covered his shoulder. He unbuttoned his hoodie and looked at the large burn. The reason he was injured was rather stupid, to be honest. He had gotten trapped under a large box at his job, and something caustic had dripped onto his skin. It had taken a while to get free, but the damage hadn't been too severe. It looked much worse than it actually was, and Taiga didn't make things better by gagging whenever she saw it.

He couldn't help his stare as the skin slowly started growing over the wound. The old scab began to break apart and fall off as the fresh and slightly pale skin covered the muscle. Blood leaked from the edges, but it was barely noticeable. It was a very slow process, but it was still amazing to watch.

He sat there for five hours, mesmerized by the shrinking wound. It had taken only five hours to heal a wound the size of a teenager's shoulder. Formalcraft was amazing! This was a beginner's circle, but it had managed something as complex as regrowing human tissue. Not scar tissue, but it had managed to completely regrow actual human skin. It looked even weirder than his wound. It appeared as if he had a big, pale stain on his shoulders.

The itch disappeared as quickly as it appeared. He poked at the new skin and was prepared to feel the pain sure to come, but once again there was no pain. Running his hand over the suspiciously smooth skin, he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in. It had worked. He had managed to cast a spell twice in a single day without any sort of discomfort. No burning rod jammed into his spine, not for him at least. He hoped he would never have to endure that sensation ever again.

He stood up to test the flexibility in his shoulder. Hopefully he wouldn't have to worry about any other damages in his arm. The book hadn't mentioned any negative repercussions if he failed, but it couldn't hurt to be sure.

Or at least he tried to stand up. His legs refused to listen to him, and he fell forward onto the concrete floor. His face crashed against the hard surface, and he was sure he felt his nose break. Pain flared up in his nose as he held his face in his hands. The taste of blood filled his mouth, confirmation that it was indeed broken. He hissed in pain, only to realize why he had fallen.

He had been sitting in seiza-style for hours, and his legs had fallen asleep long ago. Even now he couldn't control them properly, merely dangle them about like a retarded ostrich. As blood returned to his legs he regained control over them, but the sensation of a thousand tiny needles accompanied that control.

Sitting up straight once more in the circle, he felt the itching sensation return. This time it had crawled up to his nose, and he felt the healing process begin. He had been fortunate not to have destroyed the circle with his fall, but he didn't feel very lucky. If it took five hours to heal an old shallow wound, how long would it take to heal a freshly broken nose?

Later that night he started a journal. In it, he would log all the injuries he gained and how long it took to heal them.

For example, a broken nose took seven hours. For future reference, whenever healing an injury it was recommended to sit on a chair.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

The arrow struck the target's centre, a bull's-eye to finish the day's practice. Shirou lowered the bow and observed the result of his hard work. Several arrows protruded from the small target, each one in the centre.

It was the first day back in school, and Taiga had practically gloated when he mentioned how she had cared for him. Calling a doctor and cooking (some of) his meals had been the limit of her assistance, but he had appreciated it. The principal had also praised her for her diligence to her students, and she was going to ride that compliment for days. He was not going to ruin her good mood by mentioning that it had been her old man's subordinates who had done most of the chores.

The downside of having been sick for such a long time had been the extreme backlog of work. He wasn't talking about homework. He meant the maintenance of the equipment around the school. From heaters to computers, the school was in dire need of replacements. Winters and summers were particularly harsh on electronics and required weekly repairs.

This winter had been brutal on the heaters in the classrooms. No less than three units had kicked the bucket in his absence. The teachers and students alike had worn jackets and hats in class. The school did have a small portable heater as a backup in case one failed, but it wasn't big enough to warm an entire room unfortunately. Sadly, the tiny electronic heater overheated and the room had to be ventilated to get rid of the smoke.

The faculty had given him permission to skip class if he tried to fix the faulty equipment. He didn't actually like missing class, a sentiment shared by Issei, but even the student council had urged him to give it a try. The principal had ordered a replacement for the broken heater, but only a single one had been afforded. The school's budget had been strained for over a decade due to the city's desire to expand Shinto. It didn't seem as if that was going to change any time soon.

So he had been absent from classes most of the day. Finding the cause of the problem had been easy, even easier than it had been before. He knew instantly which part needed to be replaced or repaired. Electrical tape and some new cables had been enough to fix two of the heaters, but the last large one and the portable one were a different matter. The portable one had almost caught fire and fried its circuits. He wasn't willing to tinker with advanced electronics with a tendency to go up in flames. It had to go. The larger could be fixed, but it would take some time to do it. It was the oldest heater in the school and the age showed. He'd ask Taiga if he could take it home later.

Drawing back the bowstring, he took aim one more time. The target was the same. He'd get another bull's-eye.

The arrow struck true. It sunk deep into the hay and joined its brothers in the black circle. Had anyone seen him fire the arrows into the centre one after another they might have congratulated or praised his skill. It would have been hard for them to actually see the target though, considering the lack of sunlight.

Then again, not many people stayed in school until nightfall.

He didn't usually stay behind this late either. Having a part-time job meant he had to leave early sometimes. Today was a special day. Not because it was the first time he held a bow since he got injured, but because he had something to do after the sun set.

He had to find Zachary's workshop.

He had read the book several times now. Two weeks was enough time to memorize, copy, and rehearse the lessons Zachary Ainsworth had left in his journal. That was not because he was talented. The book was merely that short and simplistic. It was barely a beginner's guide to magecraft, at least according to the magus who wrote it. _"A basic introduction into the World of Mystery"_ had been his favourite description of the book, and Shirou couldn't argue against it. Aside from the activation of circuits, a few formalcraft circles, and the exercises, the book had little in the way of actual theory.

Of course the author had made it clear from the beginning that it was only the first volume. It was written in the introduction, so he wasn't complaining about that. What he found annoying was the fact that Zachary hadn't bothered to write a map where he left the remaining books. He left directions, but he hadn't bothered to consider the possible time difference between the author and the reader. If the years were correct, then Zachary had lived over 130 years ago. A lot could change in a century, especially in a small, expanding city like Fuyuki.

All he knew was that the workshop was somewhere near the forest in the southern parts of Miyama Town. Even if the town had expanded into the woods, the workshop should have been deep enough into the forest that the town hadn't reached it yet. It wasn't easy finding maps of Fuyuki City from over a hundred years ago, but he found one in the local library. He just had to make a few guesses on the first part of Zachary's directions.

What did any of this have to do with his late archery training?

He had no idea what he would find in the forest. He would have an easier time investigating the woods in the middle of the night than during the day. The school was closer to the forest than his house so he wouldn't make his neighbours suspicious by leaving his house after midnight. He would still _return_ after midnight, which was suspicious in its own right, but at least he could minimize the risks.

He checked his wristwatch. 1 AM, it was time to begin his career as a book thief. The original owner had given him permission to take the books, but he still felt as if he was stealing them from their rightful owner. However, he did need those books.

He had already changed out of the club uniform, but he kept the bow and arrows. He was going to be entering a forest in the middle of the night. Fuyuki did have a stable boar population, and there had been sightings of a bear as well. He wasn't going to risk hiking in the woods without a weapon. It was his own bow, so the club wouldn't miss it either. There was a survival knife in his bag as well, in case of emergencies.

The ride to the forest's edge didn't take too long. There wasn't any traffic he had to stop for and he might have gone a little faster than he usually would have. He'd been stuck inside his house for two weeks; he needed to get rid of the energy he'd been building up. The ride could have been even shorter if he rode his new bicycle. The bike he chose wasn't the best, but it did the job well enough. Leaving an expensive bicycle alone in the middle of the night was a good way to get it stolen. His legs started burning from the exertion after a while, but he didn't care. The forest could be seen between the houses.

He jumped off the bike and walked it to the parking lot. There were small tracks where one could walk, but none where he could ride his bicycle. He had to chain it to the public bike racks and hope it wasn't stolen when he got back. It wouldn't be the first time he lost a bike.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears just as he finished locking the chain in place. Without thinking, he ran into the darkness of the forest for cover. A row of bushes hid him from sight as he dove into the shrubbery. A tree root poked into his ribs, but he kept quiet as the foot steps grew louder and louder. The light of a flashlight swept over the bushes, quickly followed by a second one. A sound came from the bike racks, the sound of a lighter's ignition.

"Got a spare?" asked what sounded like a middle-aged male.

"Nah, last one I'm afraid," another, younger voice responded. The older male sighed in irritation as the other voice laughed. "Relax, I'm kidding! I got a whole pack left."

Shirou couldn't see through the leaves, but it was clear they were talking about cigarettes. If the conversation wasn't enough, the smell of burning tobacco cemented his suspicion.

Were they seriously going to take a smoke break right then and there? Out of all times, did they have to do it when he was hiding on the dirty forest floor?

"So you heard what happened to the neighbour's kid? Got kicked out of school," the younger voice chuckled. The older man sighed, this time in exasperation.

"That's like, what, the third time in a row? What did he do this time?"

"Got caught breaking into the infirmary with his pockets filled to the brim with pills. Don't know what's wrong with him, but the kid's got issues."

"Tell me about it. What are the parents' gonna do this time? I doubt Homurahara will take him back if he got kicked out of another school." The older voice grew quieter as he talked. By the sound of it, the man was walking away. Hopefully, the younger would follow his comrade.

"I think they're about to give up on him. The older brother has already got a job in London and all, so why would they bother with the younger if he's just gonna fuck everything up, you know?"

"The Sagara dude? I don't know why, but he creeps me out." The older man returned. As his voice grew louder once more, Shirou could hear a 'click' from them. The light from a particularly strong torch swept over the shrubbery. He flattened himself against the ground, ignoring the branches digging into his skin.

"Nah, you just haven't talked to him enough. He's awesome, and he's great at picking up babes. Every time I go clubbing with him he's got like a harem of women. I tell ya; if I got his luck with women, I'd be banging them all night lo…."

"Did you drink before patrol again? I swear if you did and I get in trouble for it, I will beat your ass into next Thursday," he growled as the light disappeared abruptly. Shirou let out a sigh and slowly moved so his ribs weren't being poked by the branches and tree roots any more.

"Relax, it's not like anyone is gonna find out. Besides, we got the shittiest shift in the dullest part of town. There's only a single bike here and I doubt anybody's gonna want to steal that rusty piece of junk. Here, look at it."

"Hey, be careful with that…." The sound of metal screeching interrupted the older companion. An eerie silence covered the area as the two men kept quiet. Only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind could be heard, a bad omen if anything. It was his bike after all.

"I won't say anything if you don't," the younger man offered weakly.

"Goddammit, Takashi."

"Come on, how was I supposed to know the chain was gonna break?" the newly identified Takashi whined.

The older man groaned in response "Maybe you shouldn't have kicked it to begin with?" he asked sarcastically. "Just… leave enough cash for a replacement."

"You want me to leave cash out in the open, in the middle of the night?" Takashi asked in disbelief.

"I can always arrest you for vandalism?"

"Cash out in the open, it is!"

After doing something to his bike, the duo left. He waited until he couldn't hear anything before he got up. Sadly, even though he had hoped it wasn't true, the reality was plain to see. The chain had been broken, a single link snapped in half. He didn't have a replacement either, and there weren't any stores open that late. He'd have to walk home, with a broken bicycle.

He was starting to regret his decision to do it in the cover of darkness.

Ten thousand yen and an apology note had been tied to the frame with a rubber band, a sad consolation for the effort he'd have to put in. Picking up the valuable pieces of paper, he placed them in his wallet. The apology he threw away, not with a small amount of irritation.

With no way home other than his own two feet, he walked into the forest with an already forming migraine. It appeared migraines and headaches were a norm in the life of a magus.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

To be honest, he had never really used a map to hike in the forest before. He knew how to read a map in theory, but he had never been forced to read maps a century old and use a ruler to estimate distances and directions. It was easy to assume a forest wouldn't change very much over the years, but the forest surrounding Fuyuki did not like to stay the same.

The first sign of trouble had been an old, fallen oak tree. The trunk had been over half a metre wide when it had fallen over. The reason for its demise remained unknown, but Zachary had used an oak tree as a marker in his instructions. He had carved runes near the roots of the tree and those runes were clear to see even a century later.

Sadly, it had taken him over an hour to find the stump. His trepidation grew even further when he saw it should have taken him only a mere five minutes to find the tree. Finding the magus's workshop would prove to be more than he bargained for, and he doubted he'd be getting any sleep that night.

After backtracking over a dozen times, comparing maps and calculating the distances, he came upon an old shed. To call it anything but decrepit would be a lie. The roof had collapsed and the sole window was nothing more than a few shards of glass. The shed itself was tilted and on the verge of collapse. It would probably already have toppled if it wasn't leaning against a tree, but even the tree looked ready to give up.

If the instructions were correct (and he sincerely hoped they were) this was the workshop of Zachary Ainsworth. The faint traces of prana in the air gave him hope, but it also meant he had to be careful. Zachary had put up bounded fields around his workshop in case anyone other than the person with his journal tried to enter. Shirou knew the password, but the thought of entering a magus's workshop was not a comforting one.

He placed a hand on the door and felt the tingling sensation of the bounded field's effects. It was preparing to activate its defensive mechanism, a mechanism he did not want to be at the end of.

"There is no darkness but ignorance," he said and the tingling disappeared. Zachary Ainsworth had been a fan of Shakespeare apparently. Shirou wasn't one to judge though, not when he spent years dreaming of becoming a superhero.

The smell of magical energy evaporated as the bounded field collapsed. Considering how many years it had been since it had been created, it might've been on its last leg. When he was certain he wouldn't be targeted by any residual spells, he grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open.

* * *

 _ **WPG**_

* * *

OMAKE

 _ **The Pendragon Grail War**_

Shirou summons Artoria Pendragon. All of them.

Shirou was not having a good day. It started out great; he fixed some heaters in school, he studied, he spent four hours cleaning the archery range and another hour maintaining their equipment. It had been a perfect day, right?

The reason it wasn't perfect anymore had to do with the guy wearing blue spandex and wielding a _very_ sharp spear currently chasing him all over his house. How did he know the spear was _very_ sharp? He had already been stabbed with it, through the heart. If it hadn't been for the mysteriously familiar voice healing him (and just as mysteriously leaving him in a puddle of his own blood in the middle of the night), he'd still be in school and would probably inconvenience the janitor when morning came.

What kind of monster would force the poor janitor to clean up a corpse first thing in the morning?

"Sorry about this, kid."

The moment the blue killer said those words he dove into a roll. A lazy swing of the crimson spear swept over his head, shaving off the hair on his neck. Something warm flowed down his back, but he didn't care. If he could get to the storehouse then maybe he could put up a fight. There wasn't enough room in there to swing that absurd weapon around. There were enough pipes and hammers in there that he could simply use them as projectiles if he needed to. Another possibility was to close the door. He couldn't get in any other way.

"You wanna get to the shed over there? Let me help you with that!" Blue Tights said with a laugh.

"What...?" He didn't have a chance to ask what he meant by that before a foot planted itself firmly in his back. The force of the kick almost snapped his spine, but fortunately for him, he only felt burning pain.

He flew through the air and into the storehouse. If he wasn't gasping for air, he might've felt relief that his plan was working. If he could only close the door before… and the guy who kicked him was already inside. Great, now he had to fight a spear-man in close quarters with a possibly fractured spine.

His new least favourite day of the week was now Tuesdays. Mondays had nothing on Tuesdays.

"So your plan was to fight me in here, huh? I thought it might be a bit more interesting to give you a fighting chance, even if I have Magic Resistance, but this is just an old shed. Where's your workshop? This can't be it, right?" Blue Tights asked, confusion clear on his face. Shirou would have liked to answer, but his kidneys were currently trying their damnedest to crawl up his throat. All he got out was a bloody cough.

"Yeah, sorry about that kid. You used reinforcement on that poster so I assumed you knew how to reinforce your body. That little lady knew how to do it, so I expected you to be able shrug that little kick off as well." The man laughed awkwardly, as if he hadn't been trying to kill Shirou just moments earlier.

"Blargcogh."

"Don't be rude, kid! I'm giving you a break here. My master's an asshole, you know? He keeps telling me to stab you all over to draw out the pain. I tell ya, that priest is a real piece of work. He was supposed to to be the supervisor of the war, but whoever thought a priest wouldn't care about an omnipotent wish-granting device obviously never met Kotomine Kirei…" he paused. His eyes focused on something beyond Shirou, but there wasn't anything there except heaters and pipes.

"What do you mean I gave away too much information? The kid's got a foot in the grave and both hands in the coffin! How is he gonna use the information if he's dead?" Silence. Blue Tights seemed to be conversing with someone, not that Shirou could use the information anyway, as the guy said. "What does it matter if he knows Father Kotomine Kirei is the Supervisor of the Fifth Holy Grail War, Master of Cú Chulainn summoned as Lancer, and that he's secretly plotting to use the Holy Grail for his own wish? Geez, paranoid much?"

While Blue Tights seemed to be having a conversation with his invisible BDSM master, Shirou was slowly regaining his ability to breathe. He had no chance to win a direct fight. For someone who wore a blue bondage suit, the Sub seemed to pack a strong kick.

His only chance was to surprise him with an attack when he'd least expect it….

"Hold on, the kid seems to be planning a surprise attack."

Damn it!

"Why… would you try to… kill me? What's your goal?" he forced out with pained breaths.

"Well, the first time was because you saw us fight. We have to keep magecraft a secret to civilians so if a normal human sees us we have to kill them." He paused. "Or we could erase their memories and let them live, but that's too much work. Killing is easier."

"How could you… kill people so… easily?" He groaned in pain as he slowly stood up, but his rage was overpowering his desire to ease the pain. "You murderer!"

"I usually just stick them with the pointy end. That tends to do the job most of the time, except in your case. You know, you're the first person to get up after having this thing in you heart. Not even my son managed that, colour me impressed." Blue Tights laughed.

This guy was touched in the head.

"I won't be killed, by someone who murders people without a second thought." His growls came out forced, but they fuelled his actions. For some reason however, the pain from his back had travelled up to his chest. He didn't remember hurting his ribs, but that didn't matter at the moment.

"Hey, I'll have you know I take killing people very seriously. I didn't even kill my teacher whom I loved… mostly because she kicked my arse and told me I wasn't strong enough, but that's not important!" He looked genuinely offended at Shirou's words, but he didn't care.

"No, I'm going to stop you. I won't let you kill another person ever again." Pain flared up in his hand, burning like hot coal. The pain travelled up his arm like a serpent. Warm liquid poured down his hand as dark bruises began to form. Neither of them noticed, but red marks slowly rose to the surface of his skin, covering his entire arm in crimson patterns.

"Sure, you and what army?" Blue Tights rolled his strangely red eyes.

"I don't need an army. I'll stop you myself!" His chest burned as magical energy poured from it. More prana than he could ever produce rolled off him in waves as golden dust flowed from his body. The marks on his arm flashed as light from the side of the storehouse illuminated the room. Something flew from the light towards Blue Tights, faster than he had ever seen anything go.

"You must be the seventh serva… What the actual fuck?!" was all the man managed to say before a multitude of bodies rushed him and kicked him out of the store house.

It had all happened so fast he couldn't see what happened. He had seen something(s), but he couldn't make heads or tails of it. The wind created from the thing(s) was so strong it had even blown him away. He landed miserably in a pile of parts and machines. If blood and dirt wasn't enough to ruin his uniform, oil and grime was. He struggled to stand and failed, collapsing onto the floor once more. Accepting his current state, he crawled over to the door of the storehouse. Upon reaching it he focused on what was happening.

The guy wearing blue spandex was nowhere to be seen, although there was now a hole in the metre thick wall encircling the property. The hole seemed suspiciously close to where Blue Tights had been kicked, so the odds of it being a coincidence were small. The people standing before him were far more concerning than the bondage maniac.

Instead of a single man in blue spandex, he could see seven figures in a row. They all had some sort of resemblance to another, but before he could ask who they were (and why one of them was on a horse) they turned to him and spoke in unity.

"Servant Saber. I ask of you; Are you my Master?"

"Servant Lancer. I ask of you; Are you my Squire?"

"Servant Archer. I ask of you; Are you my Subject?"

"Servant Rider. I ask of you; Are you my Slave?"

"Servant Caster. I ask of you; Are you my Knight?"

"Servant Berserker. I ask of you; Are you my Manservant?"

"Servant Assassin. I ask of you; Are you my Lord?"

Their voices were similar, but slightly different in tone. The way that they said almost the same thing in complete unity made his mind swim in pure bliss. It was as if a a choir had rehearsed for years for a single moment and Shirou had been the sole member of their audience.

Unfortunately, the only response he had to the angelic voices was…

"What?"

Then he fainted from the pain and blood loss.

"Master!" "Husband!" "Lord!" Oi, Slave." "Don't pass out before my training begins, Squire!" I'm hungry, Manservant." "What kind of Knight passes out from a little bruise?"

Would he be okay from now on?

* * *

 _ **The Pendragon Grail War**_

Despite the sheer absurdity of the act, the human known as Emiya Shirou was for some reason (plot) able to open up a gateway to Avalon using his long time as a host for the scabbard as a key. Under normal circumstances, Avalon would be impossible to access using magecraft or even True Magic. Avalon resides outside the boundaries of dimensions and time, and only those Avalon deem worthy may enter. Only a certain King of Knights is permitted entry unconditionally.

For some reason (plot), Emiya Shirou has been given the right to access Avalon, The Ever-Distant Utopia. It's as if he has some fundamental connection to Avalon. That alone would not prove to be enough however, as a multitude of humans have come to possess the sheath. It also seems as if he has an impossibly space-time breaking connection to a certain king capable of overpowering Avalon's desire to separate itself from the other dimensions. This connection is so strong it has opened the Gates of Avalon and is using the magical energy inside to force a complete summoning of the King of Knights.

Because Avalon sensed that Emiya Shirou was in danger, it forcefully flooded the summoning ceremony with excess mana capable of sustaining an entire Grail war on its own. The Grail couldn't handle the sheer amount of mana being forced down its metaphorical throat and had to divide it into seven separate servant classes.

Because Emiya Shirou is so closely tied to the entity known as King Arthur and Avalon, ALL the servants summoned by Emiya Shirou are some form of Artoria Pendragon. This should normally be impossible simply because King Arthur is incapable of being summoned under some of the regular classes. This caused the Grail to DARKEN...this caused the grail to ALTER… this forced the grail to change certain parts of Artoria Pendragon's Saint Graph in order to for her to fit all the servant classes. Nevertheless, they are all still the same King Arthur, even if they are slightly different.

Emiya Shirou should not be capable of sustaining this many servants. His magic circuits would be capable of supporting an Archer, Assassin or Lancer at best. Fortunately for him, Avalon is supporting the servants directly. He can therefore focus his od on his own magecraft.

It seems as if Shirou is set on winning the Holy Grail with his servants, but the Grail is not what everyone thinks it is. Angra Mainyu has a will of its own, and it is not happy when people break the rules….


End file.
